Mountains Cold and Gray
by 2Tame a River
Summary: Far too intimate with the pain of loosing a loved one, King Thranduil decides to extend a hand of comfort towards his heartbroken ex-Captain of the Gaurd. But will Tauriel accept it? With so much bad history between them, how can they possibly find solace in one another? The way to healing is not easy, yet together, they discover it is worth every bit of the effort.
1. Chapter 1

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

...

Twilight had finally come. The Lonely Mountain stood alone, a wall of black against the fading blood orange sky line. The giant rock formation smothered out the setting sun's last precious rays of warmth, and the shadow of night began to cast its net over the land.

A cool mist had approached from the east, creeping over the silhouetted peeks from the sea beyond to blanket the ground in a cloud of gray. As darkness swept over the valley, consuming territory inch by inch, King Thranduil's piercing blue eyes were drawn to the only source of light left remaining.

Man made light, yellow and bright, poured out from the mouth of the main entrance into the Lonely Mountain. Cheery music also came forth from the mountain, echoing its way across the landscape into the Elvenking's highly attuned ears. A celebration of the most joyus kind was transpiring within the Halls of Erebor. For the last two days the elated cheers of dwarves and men victorious, dwarves who had redeemed their homeland and the men who had helped them do it, had trumpeted across all of Middle Earth.

But not every soul who had survived the bloody Battle of the Five Armies was in the mood for revelry...

The great king of the woodland realm bowed his uncrowned head, his silver hair streaming freely like a curtain around his face. He turned slowly away from the view and sought to find some solace inside the silent enclosure of his royal tent.

For a brief moment, the steady warmth and soothing crackles from the fire hearth numbed the King's troubled mind, but its effects did not last long. All the fine furnishings and familiar elegance of his traveling quarters could not provide an escape from his sorrows this evening. Striding to his deer skinned lounge chair, Thranduil lowered himself tiredly into the seat, fixing his long satin robe about him before leaning his elbow onto the armrest and lifting his fingers to support his chin.

The intense aches and pains he had been experiencing over the last few days had finally dulled to a manageable level, thanks to the persistent and skilled hands of a medical officer and the use of enchanted herbs. However, it was the mental and emotional trauma that was by far the hardest torture to bare.

Thranduil's eyelids shuddered involuntarily against the sudden onslaught of horrific images that flashed uninvited through his mind; images of lifeless eyes, gaping mouths, colorless skin, and bloodied, mutilated bodies lying strewn on the cold grounds of battle. The aftermath of war, even one that ended in success, had never been anything less than depressing. There were no spoils that could outweigh in jubilance what the staggering loss of soldiers' lives would equal in grief. Not even the precious white gems which had inspired Thranduil to march on the Lonely Mountain to reclaim.

The king inhaled a deep breath through the nose, but the weight of his guilt still rested heavily upon his breast. His lapse in judgement had cost him dearly, and even now, Thranduil could not determine if he had made the right or wrong choice in having brought his army to this death ridden land in the first place. Without his help, the dwarves might have never been able to hold off the orcs from their newly reclaimed kingdom, and the army of man would have surely been thoroughly slaughtered. But why then did the king's heart remain wholly untouched by even the smallest shred of satisfaction? Why were loss and loneliness his only companions on what should have been a festive evening?

"My Lord,"

The voice, speaking in elvish, came from a sentry guard standing by the curtain of Thranduil's tent entrance. Thranduil inclined his head in acknowledgement, though his eyes did not meet with the guard's.

"It is Tauriel. She wishes to speak to you," the sentry explained.

Now this was unexpected, and finally drew Thranduil's gaze. Indeed, there she stood. His previous Captain of the Guard. She waited patiently, her expression professionally blank, but her eyes gave her away. They were still faintly pink from the tears of agony she had expressed a few hours earlier over the loss of her loved one: a dwarf prince called Kili.

They, along with Bard the Dragonslayer, the Great Wizard Gandalf, and the Brave Hobbit, Bilbo, had all respectfully attended the burial ceremony of King Thorin and his two nephew's: Fili and Kili. It had been a mournful gathering in which many tears were shed. Everyone, save perhaps Thranduil himself, was greatly moved by the gravity of their loss.

The Throne of Erebor had lost its rightful heir, leaving Dain, son of Nain, to assume rulership over the great treasure hoard. But there was one treasure which was to no longer belong to the great halls; it was to be delivered into the hands of the dwarf who had fought so hard to reclaim it.

It was Bard who lay the Arkenstone between Thorin's cold, lifeless fingers, where the white gem was to stay forever within the fallen king's tomb. King Thranduil had then stepped forward to bestow his gift, the sword named Orcrist: the very elven blade in which Thorin had slain the Orc beast, Azog. It seemed to Thranduil that the best place for the beloved weapon was with the dwarf who had wielded it in victory.

The rustle of his tent door flapping in the night wind, brought Thranduil back to the present. Casting these thoughts aside, the king shifted in his chair to properly address his visitor.

"You may enter," Thranduil permitted, straightening his posture. The sentry left them, and Tauriel glided into the tent, her long red tresses flowing behind her as she approached. She stopped, a gracious two yards before his throne chair, and bowed her head. Thranduil waited patiently until her eyes at last lifted to meet his.

"My king," she addressed, her tone soft and broken.

"Why have you come to me at this hour, Tauriel?" Thranduil asked shortly, his demeanor slightly coarse. He was not in the mood for friendly conversation with the traitor, and was too weary to pretend otherwise.

"I have come because I felt it was my duty to inform you that I have found no trace of Legolas," Tauriel answered meekly, clearly apprehensive of what reaction this news might evoke from her king. To her own bewilderment, her words brought on no sudden movements or words of wrath. Instead, Thranduil gazed off dazedly behind her, his mind miles away. Finally, after Tauriel had been left waiting several long moments with bated breath, he responded.

"I have given Legolas leave to explore the western territories in search of advantageous allies. He left two days past, after the conclusion of the battle. I do not expect him to return for some time."

Tauriel swallowed, stricken. Thranduil observed her reaction to his announcement with careful attention. She was making a valiant effort at maintaining her composure, but Thranduil saw it crumbling away with each moment in which his words sunk further in. Slowly, her mouth parted to respond, but nothing came forth from her quivering lips save for a shallow breath. A shimmer of fresh tears glassed her liquid blue eyes, and one rogue drop broke away, slipping down the center of her right cheek. She looked suddenly very faint and the strength of her knees began to falter.

Thranduil's eyes widened in alarm, and he stood swiftly, taking two large strides before the elven maid was safely within his reach. His arms encompassed her carefully and Tauriel collapsed into him, resting her head upon his shoulder and shivering in silent sobs. Nothing but small gasps escaped her throat as her tears stained his robes. Thranduil simply held her.

To have her fleeting love affair with Kili cruelly shortened by his death was one thing, but to be robbed indefinitely of Legolas' company- an elf in whom she had grown up with, had fought and served with, whom she had trusted as her truest, most loyal friend- was another matter.

Only now did Thranduil realize how the loss of both relationships might deeply damage the essence of this passionate, young warrior. Unable to think of any other words, the king spoke these:

"I am sure Legolas did not intend to cause you further pain through his absence. However, perhaps it is best, for the both of you. He has been longing to explore the outer realms for some time, and this is the perfect opportunity. And as for you… You need time to rest and quiet your mind from these events. If you ever have hope of returning to your former self, you will need to conquer this grief…"

At that, Tauriel abruptly pulled herself away from her king's embrace.

"Don't you see?" she spat venomously, her wet cheeks glistening in the low lantern light of the tent. "I shall never again be like my former self," she resolved, quivering with barely restrained anger. "She died some time ago, within the dungeon halls of the Woodland Palace, whence I first spoke with an unlikely dwarf who reopened my eyes to a world of wonder beyond our borders, and in doing so, also my heart. I shall never again return to the cruel, indifferent creature that I once was, having no feeling towards those deemed lower than us. My heart will not allow me to operate under such pretenses in good conscience."

Her speech astonished the Elvenking, and Thranduil's feelings of offense were made evident by the darkening of his stormy blue eyes.

"What other choice do you have?" Thranduil challenged. "You swore an oath to me. Or have you forgotten? You swore to serve under me and to heed to my orders. To defy me is treason. Your disobedience in leaving our realm when you were not given my express permission has already gotten you banished. See where following your heart has taken you. Down a path of inexplicable pain, tragedy, and ruin," he declared firmly, his silver brows set. "Tell me, dear Captain, how can I possibly receive you back into my confidence? Even if I were not already displeased with your insubordination, would you honestly expect me to take you back, being as emotionally compromised as you have just demonstrated to me now?" he demanded hotly.

This revelation seemed to strike Tauriel off kilter, and a flush of mortification reddened her cheeks. It was true. Had she been in a sounder, less emotional state, she would have never let herself cling unabashedly to her king and cry as she had just moments ago. Much less, rant to him in such a way! How could she bare the shame and disgrace of not only losing her prestigious position, but also her place among her people? And all for love? A love now lost? Tauriel swallowed, distress painted clearly across her features in shades of fear, guilt and uncertainty.

Thranduil's intense expression softened, sensing his lecture had inspired the effect he'd hoped for in proving to the Captain just how far she'd fallen from her senses. Once again, Tauriel stood before him, mouth parted, but unable to summon a reply, locked in a silent struggle for mental ground. Thranduil glanced away towards his wine dresser, and turned to approach the polished wooden cabinet, producing and uncorking an ancient bottle before pouring out some of its red contents into two glasses.

Taking both glasses, the king returned to Tauriel's side and outstretched a hand, offering her one. Slowly, Tauriel lifted her fingers to receive the glass, but her eyes would not meet his, staring emptily down at the immaculately embroidered rug beneath her feet.

After allowing himself a savoring sip from his own glass, Thranduil decided to re-engage the conversation.

"You are a wonderful warrior, Tauriel. I watched you from your youth and was there to witness your greatest victories, as well as your defeats. I have seen your resiliency, and your unwavering determination. Both are admirable character traits," he assured, his voice soft and caressing. "Yet," he continued, "When you allow yourself to be controlled by your impulsive passions, the results of your efforts lead only to inevitable downfall. Time and time again, I have warned you against the danger of letting your emotions govern your actions, yet you have refused to heed my words. Perhaps now, this death of a loved one: the cruelest of all lessons, will finally teach you the many benefits of better guarding your heart. Calm, collected thought, cool reserve and self-control can never betray you. Embracing them, as I have learned to over the span of my experience, is perhaps your only hope now of moving on."

Tauriel's eyes ascended from the carpeted floor and examined her king's serene countenance. After a tense moment of silence, she slowly shook her head.

"I will not allow any pain of mine to transform me into a hardened statue, devoid of any compassion or warmth, to leave me to a fate where my person is as cold and unfeeling as you," she hissed, her words striking as sharply as a two edged sword.

Thranduil's eyes blazed with burning ire, but scarcely had the time to respond before Tauriel had turned on her heel and was marching for his tent's exit. She slowed only to set down her glass of wine on one of his desks before she was gone.

Nothing but the chilly night air replaced her fiery presence.

...

In the cool of the following morning, the king's elven army was in full activity, packing away the campsite tents and supplies. Wounded soldiers were loaded on wagons, and able bodied troops tended to all other matters needing to take place for the preparation of the journey back to the Woodland Realm.

Sounds of the elves hard at work filtered through the king's tent and served as a soothing background noise as he perched before his writing desk, a black tipped quill braced between his slender fingers. Practiced, controlled strokes brushed on the thick hewn paper as Thranduil transcribed the events of the recent battle. It was a letter, addressed to the Lord Elrond of Rivendell.

The king had spent hours that morning dedicatedly documenting his accounts of what had transpired between the men of Laketown, Thorin's Company, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills, and the orcs hailing from Dol Goldur. Gandalf's arrival, along with the timely intervention of the Eagles, and the creative meddlings of a hobbit, were also noted- though not so heavily expounded upon in comparison to the valiant efforts of Thranduil's noble warriors and their selfless efforts to even the tides of a battlefield that was no longer politically their own concern.

Lord Elrond would surely appreciate the lengths Thranduil was going through to see to it that in this letter, the elves were given their rightful recognition as the most supreme warriors of the day. After all, had it not been for them, it was clear that the dwarves and the men would not have achieved victory against their enemy.

With a disgusted sigh, Thranduil leaned back into his chair, and glared down at the nearly completed letter upon his desk. It was a painful thing, to describe the circumstances of the battle without the emotional investment. Yet still, he tried to play the part of a fair and accurate scribe. Even if it were a part he loathed to play.

Why, if the prince was here, Thranduil would have given this job to him instead. Legolas was an excellent writer, as he was excellent at everything, and had often taken dictation for Thranduil's letters himself. The king's frown deepened, wishing he'd taken more time to think of just how many conveniences he would be without in the meantime that his son was gone. If he had meditated on this subject long enough, it was unlikely he would have allowed Legolas to take such an extended leave of absence.

But it was over and done with, and no one would feel the pain of his son's leaving more acutely than the king himself- no matter how wildly emotional Tauriel had proven to be.

Tauriel.

The king's jaw set just at the thought of her. The conversation they'd had last night was quite vivid in his memory, and just recalling her thoughtless, naive words sparked anew the same flare of anger she'd ignited then. He had kindly extended a hand of comfort and fellowship towards the Captain, and instead of receiving his gracious gift of advice, she had vehemently slapped it away. That was gratitude for you!

Why was it that this elven maid was capable of inspiring a frustration within him that he himself could hardly begin to explain or understand? Not even Legolas on his worst day could provoke these feelings of intense bitterness from the king. Thranduil prided himself on his impressively calm, collected demeanor in all manners of circumstance. It was a quality all Elvenkings were taught to possess, and yet, he had neglected all rules of propriety in favor of publicly lashing out in fury at the provoking of his Captain of the Guard.

She had been completely out of place to challenge him the way she had on the streets of Dale. She'd thought for a moment that her opinion on the subject of his decisions mattered. Under extreme stress and fear for his people he might have been, but he had not failed to see how the elven maid had attempted to manipulate him to her will through the use of declaring what flaws she thought she had perceived in his character. But she did not know him. At all.

His slicing of her beloved bow, followed by the undeniably strong urge to silence the female warrior's vile tongue permanently, had been abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Legolas. And how glad the king was for his son's impeccable good timing. Had the prince not stepped in at that moment, the king would have rashly acted on something that he would have come to regret for the rest of his life- all at the expense of his rotten temper.

If ever there was a flaw that Tauriel wished to accuse him of, it should have been that.

But no. Instead, all she chose to see was an unfeeling, heartless king, who did not understand the value of what it meant to love and extend compassion to others. Well had he not just done that last night, in offering her his advice for how to soothe her broken heart? And what had she done? She'd not only refused, but she'd insulted him. Tauriel was many things, but foremost of her making, was that of a hypocrite.

With all her talk of love and acceptance of others, he, her very king, seemed to be exempt from all her precious beliefs. And how many others did she conjure compassion towards outside of the dwarves? He did not see her pining over the loss of the many men who had died of Laketown- nor did she weep over the drastically lowered numbers of their own elven ranks. She cared solely for the fate of the dwarves, and Thranduil was certain those sympathies were only inspired based off of her unexplainable infatuation with the now deceased Kili. Well, she could stay with the dwarves, if she admired them so much. She would surely not be welcome to join his army's return journey into the Woodlands.

Realizing how he had fallen greatly out of attention to his letter, Thranduil once again sat forward and resumed his writing. At length, when the letter was completed, Thranduil enclosed and sealed it with his signet ring, standing and taking the envelope in hand to emerge from his tent.

The sun was only just beginning to peek over the hills from the south, but what a beautiful picture its emergence did paint across the sky. Three soldiers approached him and bowed. The center elf spoke.

"Your highness, if you are ready, we shall commence with the taking down of your tent."

"Proceed," Thranduil granted, now extending his hand with the envelope forward, "And see to it that this letter is delivered into the hands of my royal courrier."

The lead soldier took the letter with care and bowed his head respectfully.

"Of course, your highness." And with that, the soldiers moved swiftly to do their king's bidding.

Thranduil, already properly adorned in his riding attire, made his way through the massive camp grounds to seek the stables, his velvet cape trailing behind his boot steps. The picketed hitching lines of tethered livestock were not hard to locate. The sounds of snorts and whinnies called to him, and the sweet smells of fresh alfalfa and horsehair wafting through the morning air were all too familiar. Both heavy drafts and light footed war horses ate their breakfasts side by side in an orderly line up, their tails swishing and the occasional hoof stomping in the dirt.

The king's stormy blue eyes fell over the sea of multicolored backs and flanks, searching, in vain, for that particular brown pelt that he so deeply longed to find.

His faithful elk mount, stalwart and loyal, had born him through hundreds of battles. Yet, the Battle of the Five Armies was to bring about his faithful steed's end with an enemy arrow to the head. Thranduil physically cringed at the memory. There would be no other that could serve as a replacement to the bond in which Thranduil had formed with his previous war elk companion.

Why did it seem, that no matter where Thranduil turned upon this early morning, there was nothing but loss to greet him?

He felt it then, welling up inside him. Bitterness, black and ugly. The kind of foul emotion that's dark grasp was powerful enough to choke you from the inside. It was raw, and rising, threatening to suffocate what was left of his sound mind. Thranduil's fists suddenly clenched, the only outward act which betrayed the fact that he was struggling to contain yet another anger episode.

"Lord Thranduil,"

The voice was so unexpected, it shattered through Thranduil's concentration and immediately extinguished the flames of fury that had been steadily building in his soul.

Turning slowly about, Thranduil took in the gray clad form of the wizard, and his small, childlike companion. Behind them was a great black draft horse and a small pony, loaded with a pair of chests and traveling packs.

"Gandalf, Master Baggins," Thranduil greeted the pair, noting how the hobbit carried on his back a traveling bag, and that Gandalf himself wore a satchel strapped over his shoulder.

"I see you are also intending to make your departure for the journey home this morn," Thranduil perceived with a small smile. "My company and I will be taking the road to Mirkwood. Since your travels lead you in the same direction, I would be honored if you would join us."

Gandalf and Bilbo exchanged a pleased look with one another.

"I would like that very much," Bilbo offered. Gandalf smiled and looked back to the elf King.

"Then we accept. You are most gracious," Gandalf replied happily, leaning on his staff.

"Very good. We shall be ready to make our leave within the hour," Thranduil informed them.

In all truth, Thranduil was glad that the wizard and the hobbit would be joining him. He should actually enjoy the company they had to offer, for he was sure they would bring a cheerfulness that would lighten the mood of his kin's travel.

It was in that moment that Thranduil suddenly was taken off guard at the sight of Tauriel, of all the elves, making her way towards him. Frowning deeply, the king pardoned himself from the wizard and hobbit, and moved to discover just what the she-elf was doing here.

Tauriel approached to stand before him with her head bowed in supplication.

"Tauriel, you stretch what is left of my patience," Thranduil warned icily.

"My Lord, I have come to seek your forgiveness and your mercy," she blurted quickly, "I have treated you with extreme dishonor, and I know you have every right to be angry with me and to uphold your judgement for my banishment. But is there any way I can make amends for my words and my behavior of last night? If we are to part, it is my deepest wish that it be done in such a manner that peace has been made between us. Otherwise I should not be able to forgive myself..."

A slender dark eyebrow inched higher upon Thranduil's forehead. Clearly, she was desperate. He also ascertained the she-elf's apology was merely for the night prior, and not for her behavior during these entire weeks past as a whole. He certainly deserved an apology for everything she had said and done since this dwarf business had first begun. But then again, it was not very often that the king was graced with hearing a sincere penitence from this Captain of the Guard's own fair lips. It would seem, this was the best he should expect to get.

As it was, her wishing to make amends betwixt them, even while knowing her banishment was a solid arrangement, was quite amiable.

Taking a deep breath through the nose, Thranduil deliberated in what manner he should respond. He was not so lofty to deny that he was still extremely displeased with her, but… His frustrations did not outweigh the importance he suddenly saw in allowing the repentant Tauriel to rejoin his command. He needed something stable right now, when the rest of his world was so rapidly changing, and even if the red haired she-elf could prove herself quite testing at times, she would provide him some comfort.

Tauriel waited, anxiety written all over her tense countenance. Her future hung in the balance, and she dared not speak a word while her king made up his mind.

"Your king hears your words, Tauriel," Thranduil spoke at last, "And while my forgiveness for your wrongdoings may yet be some time in coming, I am willing to extend unto you my mercy. I will retract the order of your banishment."

At this, Tauriel's bowed head jerked upwards to meet her highness's gaze with an expression of astonishment.

"Thank you, my Lord," she breathed, scarcely able to believe his words, after everything. She for one, had never expected to be allowed back into the realm of her people. It was more than she had ever dreamed she deserved, and her heart filled with a relief and a gladness she had not felt in days. But then, Thranduil's gaze sharpened, and Tauriel sensed this discussion was not yet over. She was right.

"Do not mistake this as an act of pure charity, on my part," Thranduil warned, his tone hardening in all seriousness. "A punishment is still due to you, and it will come in the form of your demotion from Captain of the Guard to that of a scout. Furthermore, I expect you to understand the full gravity of this restoration to your citizenship. Should you ever make me come to regret this newfound trust I've put in your ability to follow my orders, expect your next punishment far more severe than banishment."


	2. Chapter 2

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

Part Two

...

Tauriel's blue eyes widened. She knew her king had every right to make this judgement, but to give her such an arrangement? It was as reasonable as it was entrapping. She knew her lowering of rank to that of a scout was the best she was bound to receive at this point, and therefore, had no wish to barter for more. But how long must she live under the fear of knowing one wrong word or action would lead to her banishment? The thought alone was tormenting. She opened her mouth to make a protest of some sort, but found she had no grounds on which to debate this further. Her actions had brought upon her these consequences, and the questioning of said consequences was bound to only make things worse for her.

So, she wisely shut her mouth, swallowing back any refute that otherwise might have leaked out from her. With a deep, fortifying breath, she nodded, lowering her eyes from Thranduil's gaze once more to show her humility.

"As you say, my Lord," she managed, once her will had solid control of her tongue.

Apparently satisfied with her compliance, Thranduil made to turn away, when suddenly he paused, and regarded her once more.

"I want you to ride on ahead with a small contingent of soldiers and scout the path laid out for our journey home. Report if you find anything of a suspicious or dangerous nature," he instructed.

Tauriel nodded and it was only a short time later, after Thranduil issued an order to a stable hand, that two horses were brought out, a large blood bay gelding, and a tall, imperious white stallion. The stable hand held out to Tauriel the reins for the bay. She mounted the gelding and situated her battle skirts before a thought occurred to her.

"I have no bow, My Lord," she pointed out. Thranduil set a boot toe into the stirrup of his saddle and swung aboard with an easy grace, his cape sweeping around him. Taking the leather reins in his hands, the king smiled smugly and turned the white stallion's head about to face Tauriel.

"You shall have to make do by finding a spare,"

He then tapped his heels into the stallion's flanks and the white horse charged away at a thundering lope through the campsite. Tauriel huffed. How was she expected to be efficient, even at scouting, without her bow? The bow she had fought with in many a battle. The bow she had such innate familiarity with that she knew the very weight, length and type of wood from which it was crafted? The bow King Thranduil was responsible for slashing through, splintering her beloved weapon without a second thought.

The memory didn't fail to spark a flame of contempt in Tauriel's breast. She was still highly upset about that particular confrontation in the streets of Dale. But she could not dwell on it. She had to maintain a calm controlled manner around her king, and that was hard enough to do without having these thoughts further fueling her naturally rebellious spirit.

Resolved, the demoted Captain turned her horse to go gather her scouts. She had a job to do and quite truthfully, she was thankful for it. Having the distraction would perhaps help to keep her from falling into depression. As it was, she was constantly plagued by the images of Kili's pale, lifeless face. Her sleep had been an uncomfortable one, wrought with nightmares of the most ghastly kind. Even the sound of Kili's very last, pained exhale haunted her ears as she'd awoken from her dreadful slumber. The gores of war left an imprint that stayed with you, even in sleep, and Tauriel was no exception. Kili's death had left a large scar upon her soul, a scar that she was sure would mark her for the rest of her days. But that did not mean she was to be useless.

King Thranduil might doubt her now, but he would soon see that she was not to be underestimated. She would serve him, and serve him well. Regardless of the inner pain she would be silently suffering…

...

The days of travel passed swiftly, and without enemy encounter. This was a welcome relief, since it was a safe thing to say that the Woodland Elves had had quite enough of the sight of blood for the time being.

Gandalf and Bilbo had proved quite the cheerful company Thranduil had anticipated, and in addition, the skin changer, Beorn had been added at the last moment to their travel party. Beorn also proved to be a light hearted soul, despite his otherwise grizzly and serious appearance. The songs the skin changer graced the whole party with were most diverting. Over all, Thranduil found the entire week's journey to be one he thoroughly enjoyed.

It was with great rejoice that the army finally reached the outskirts of Mirkwood, and beheld it with wonder. The shade of the forest appeared unusually brighter than past days. The sight of it no longer influenced one's natural instincts to become wary with concern or fear. It was as if the shadow of evil had lifted from the entire wood, and Thranduil, for one, was pleased to observe his kingdom's improved condition.

Yet it was here, just before the Forest River road, that Gandalf and Bilbo were resolved to bid the elves farewell, and continue their homeward journey by another route. Beorn, was inclined to agree with them.

"Are you most certain?" Thranduil prompted the trio. "Please know you would be most welcome to stay and rest within my kingdom as royal guests for as long as you pleased before continuing your travels," Thranduil persisted.

"As always, you are a most gracious, Lord Thranduil, but I'm afraid our minds are set, and not to be swayed," Gandalf replied assuredly.

"As is the way with wizards, I've come to learn," Thranduil remarked with a wry smile.

"Farewell, O Elvenking!" Gandalf bade him with a laugh, "Merry be the Greenwoods, and merry be all your kinsfolk!"

"And farewell to you, Great Wizard, may you ever appear where you are most needed, and never expected," Thranduil returned with a measured nod.

It was at this point that Bilbo urged his pony over to stand alongside the elven King's white stallion and withdrew a small pouch from his vest pocket.

"I beg of you," Bilbo stammered, "to accept this gift." And he lifted the pouch up to the king's hands. Thranduil carefully loosened the thread to the sack and opened the pouch wide enough to pull out a necklace strand of glistening white gems. Thranduil's eyes widened in recognition of what he held, and what was being gifted to him. These were none other than the gems of his ancestors… The white gems which had belonged to his own lovely wife before her passing. His gaze swept back to the small form of the hobbit, a person not very remarkable to first behold, but in that moment, Mr. Baggins had never looked so big, the elf thought.

"In what way have I earned such a gift, master burglar?" Thranduil inquired, his voice soft and touched beyond words.

"Well, er, firstly, I didn't steal those, if that's what you think. It was part of my fourteenth share of the treasure you see. And well...er, I thought, I mean, don't you know…" Bilbo ventured confusedly, "..that some little return should be made for your hospitality? I mean, even a burglar has his feelings. I have drunk much of your wine, and eaten much of your bread, after all."

As Bilbo spoke, a slow smile of admiration grew on the elven king's lips.

"I accept your gift, O Bilbo the Brave," Thranduil announced, holding the pouch reverently, "And I name you a forever friend of the elves, and blessed. May your shadow never grow less- else stealing would be too easy for you. Farewell!"

Bilbo's already ruddy cheeks reddened slightly further, and he ducked his head meekly, turning his pony to follow after Gandalf and Beorn.

And thus they parted ways, and it was not to be for a very long time that King Thranduil laid his eyes upon another hobbit.

...

A day's journey later, the elf host arrived at their lovely, well fortified kingdom and immediately began a time of much needed recovery. Thranduil himself had retired to his private chambers and was not seen nor heard from for three days.

"Sleeping off all the stress of the battle, no doubt," some said. Others were of the opinion that the king was "pining over the loss of his son's presence" and could do little of anything progressive "without the help of the good prince by his side".

Tauriel herself was not certain what to believe. She privately supposed it was more likely that Thranduil was indeed taking some alone time to revive his spirits, probably by the emptying of his wine reserve cabinet. Even after the king had finally emerged from his private quarters, Tauriel was not privy to any more information about his state other than the fact that he was going about business as usual. Being that she was no longer the Captain of the Guard, Tauriel did not have the liberty to approach the king whenever she deemed necessary. Now, she was at the mercy of his beck and call.

The amount of frustration this inconvenience caused her had caught her by surprise. She'd not realized how accustomed she had been to the privilege of being in such close confidence with the king and the prince on all matters of the kingdom and court. Now, she was forced to eavesdrop for even the slightest news on what manner of business was being conducting in the throne room.

At last, after two weeks of exclusion, Tauriel's curiosities were to be answered.

The king's summons came as a surprise, but a welcome one. Tauriel had just returned from a long day of scouting the borders and she had nothing but good news to report. Surely this was bound to please her king.

Stepping lightly through the magnificent halls, her footsteps nothing but a soft echo, Tauriel made her way to the king's private study, where a set of double doors were opened for her by the pair of stationed guards on either side.

The old smell of the the library was comfortingly familiar. Isles of towering bookshelves housed hundreds of thousands of archaic books. Yet despite the aged items scattered about the massive library, not a spot of dust rested on a single shelf or open page. Thranduil was incredibly regimental about the cleanliness of his personal study, and it was cleaned meticulously. Tauriel knew this well, for she had used to be a common visitor of this wonderful place.

As a young elf, she had been permitted entrance to this royal library, along with the other members of her private tutor's class. She had spent many of her studying days hiding away behind these walls of books, reading of the places of the world that existed far beyond these Silvan borders. Absolutely enchanted with the idea that by reading, she was able to learn and understand things she herself had not actually experienced in her life, Tauriel felt that books had given her a doorway into lands otherwise unreachable.

Even now, Tauriel regarded the massive bookshelves with warm reverie, her blue eyes twinkling with memory. She and Legolas had had many a talk in this library over literary discoveries and philosophies. Suddenly, the fondness in her eyes went sullen.

Legolas…

How long must she wait before she was reunited with her closest friend?

Then, movement in the corner of her eye interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to behold the King exiting the hall that led from the library to his separate, private study room.

"Tauriel," he addressed warmly. And he looked quite well. There was an unexpected friendliness, a bright pleasantness in his mood that was not commonly seen. He was practically smiling. It took Tauriel aback.

"My Lord," she returned respectfully, bowing her head. "You summoned me to report?" She asked.

"I did not summon you for a report, no, but by all means," Thranduil gestured that she proceed, and he clasped his hands behind his back, taking a resting stance. Tauriel blinked, wondering why she had in fact been summoned, if not for a report. But she obliged him anyway, giving him the full extent of her good news. No giant spiders were to be found all throughout the territory, and every last trace of Orc presence was done away with.

"A new age has begun, over all the land," Thranduil replied, beginning to walk down the rows of bookshelves. Tauriel dutifully fell in step a little behind and beside him as he continued. "I have been in recent communication with your scout troop leader. He has informed me that your new position is proving to be a challenging adjustment,"

Tauriel flushed, lowering her eyes to the floor and the carpet which they traversed as she fought back the urge to make a rebuttal. Her troop leader, Castor, deserved nothing but contempt for having given such an unjust report of her to the king! Never before had she worked so hard to appease and humble herself to the soldiers around her, and what did she receive for her efforts? Persecution! If anyone was having trouble adjusting to her new position as a lowly scout, it was her peers! It was they who mocked her without prompt, and took every opportunity to throw her fall from grace in her face. They were the ones who disregarded her and treated her with malicious sport, making sport of her day and night. The harassment was so much so, that she had retreated from all contact with her fellow scout troops, save for when she was on duty. Even the barracks she completely avoided.

At her lack of a forthcoming reply, the king's eyes turned to observe her expression, clearly awaiting her to make some sort of response. But Tauriel was quite aware that she was in a dangerous position to be saying anything of refute towards a superior, and so she wisely remained silent.

Perceiving she would not speak without direct prompting, Thranduil continued.

"It was reported that you behave haughtily, are willful, and that you keep to yourself and have no interest in joining the easy flow of troop comradery among your fellow scouts,"

Tauriel was certain her face was turning red from anger, but still, she kept silent, her lips pursed together so tightly that they went white. She would not lose control of her temper. She would not. She was just beginning to get into a routine in her position as a scout soldier and wasn't about to do anything that may compromise her circumstances.

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself in response to these disturbing reports?" Thranduil asked, now pausing in his step to stand and face Tauriel, his blue gaze penetrating, demanding that she not evade his question.

The she-elf let out a long, sad sigh.

"What can I say? Nothing that will do me good. My Lord would not believe my word, and Castor would further resent me for having dared to put his honest reputation into question with his Highness," Tauriel answered, dejectedly.

The king regarded her with tender attention.

"Castor would further resent you, you say? What cause did Castor have to resent you in the first place?" He queried.

"Not a word more will I speak, under the fear of what negative repercussions would fall upon myself should I express myself freely," Tauriel resolved, looking her king straight in the face with solid determination.

Thranduil was intrigued, and allowed himself a small smile of appreciation for her cunning.

"Very well, you have my word no punishments will befall you. Speak freely," he besieged.

"I am greatly aware that I am honored to still have any position whatsoever within your army, My Lord, and I do not resent the lowliness of my new rank. But my demotion has robbed me of what respect I once had with the soldiers of your command. Despite my best efforts to make amends, my fellow scouts see me as no more than an object worthy of their scorn and belittlement. They treat me as if I were still a criminal. I was once banished from your kingdom. I now see that being welcomed back into your service has not changed this fact. I am as far from my peers as I ever could be."

It was of great relief to get all this off of Tauriel's chest. But even though she had received Thranduil's consent to speak what she wished, that did not deter the knot of anxiety from forming in her stomach.

She awaited the king's reaction to her speech with bated breath. It was uncertain to her at this point, if Thranduil's smile of amusement was a good sign, or bode ill for her.

Recovering rather abruptly, as if he had been caught committing some odious crime, Thranduil's expression was soon restored to his usual stoic palate.

"You were wrong to assume that I would not be inclined to believe your words," he stated, his tone slightly reprimanding. "I had already suspected Castor of over exaggeration, upon first receiving the report. Reclusive you sometimes are- willful- most assuredly, but never haughty."

Tauriel's bluish-green eyes lighted with hope upon hearing such a gracious statement.

"I apologize, my King, for having doubted you in any way," she replied, earnestly. It was all she could think to say in response to such kindness coming from his Majesty.

"Yes, well, now that my suspicions on this matter have been confirmed, I have no further desire to continue discussing this subject," he stated, "I had another matter for calling an audience with you."

The king resumed his walking then, and Tauriel followed, her mind quite interested to hear what it was Thranduil had to share.

"I have put out an invitation to Lord Elrond, and the Lady Galadriel of Lorien to attend a great feast that I have decided to host in celebration of this transition into our new age. Already I have received their answering letters, accepting my invitation. The feast will take place on the eve of the new moon and preparations are being seen to this very moment," Thranduil revealed.

Tauriel couldn't help but blink in astonishment. She could not recall the last time King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm had hosted any elven celebration, much less one welcoming his fellow monarchs.

"A feast!" she expressed happily, "What a wonderful idea."

"The reason I have called you here, is to inform you of the special task I have for you," Thranduil went on. By now the two had reached the near end of the massive library, and the king paused by a very specific shelf, regarding the old books kept there. After a moment, he reached onto the shelf and pulled forth a bulging text. The title read "Elven Customs of Celebrative Events".

Tauriel eyed the textbook with great fascination as Thranduil opened the thick, leather bound binder and flipped through the stiff, sweet smelling pages. Particles of dust puffed into the air when he did so, causing the king to frown in displeasure. Tauriel had to stifle a smile.

At last, he found the page he had set out to find, and laid his hand flat onto it for Tauriel to see. The chapter title read, 'Customs to Welcome the Coming of a New Age'.

"It is my command that you not only continue to serve as a scout, but that in your additional time, commit yourself to the researching of the ancient customs of our people. You will do so, and share with me your findings, so that I may best design this upcoming celebration as is fitting for a feast of this magnitude," Thranduil explained.

Tauriel could not have felt more honored by this command. Neither did she have any reservations in saying so. The king appeared to be pleased by her eager acceptance of this mission. And seeing that she was to do all the research for the feast, it was only natural that Tauriel was granted unlimited access to the old library. This was a gift beyond Tauriel's imaginings. Why, of all the other she-elves in this palace, had the king chosen her for this task? She could not fathom, but neither did she intend to question. She would count this fortune as a great blessing, and approach her new commission with all the vigor of a knowledge hungry scholar.

Thus satisfied that Tauriel could be entirely depended upon, Thranduil handed the book into her capable hands, and took his leave of the library. Tauriel wasted not even a moment, and began her studies.


	3. Chapter 3

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

Part Three

...

It was an early morning. The birds were chirping cheerfully and the air smelled crisp and cold, marking the arrival of autumn. Tauriel loved this season best of all. Perhaps it was because she had been born in it.

The leaves were only just starting to fall, having turned vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. They sprinkled the ground, adding a dashing amount of color to the otherwise dull ground. Stepping lightly, Tauriel jogged to and fro through the thick curtains of tree branches, dodging sticks and twigs as she went.

She was in pursuit of a creature she suspected to be of evil nature. The creaking of branches and the thud of movement had given testimony to the fact that something large was moving through the woods. Tauriel had not yet caught sight of it, but she determined to do so. Could it be that one last foul spider still remained within the Mirkwoods? If so, it had hidden remarkably well up to this point. There was not an inch of this forest Tauriel and her fellow scouts had not actively patrolled at some point or another.

Examining the ground carefully as she moved along, Tauriel hunted for what sort of tracks this creature was leaving behind. So far, this was proving difficult, for she was not seeing any. It could have been simply that her tracking skills were far from expert. Legolas had always been the exceptional tracker. She'd come to depend upon his natural skill set so heavily, that it seemed clear to her now that she was far out of practice.

Coming upon a large set of thick, bulging tree roots which supported a towering specimen of redwood, Tauriel halted to balance upon them. It was there that she waited and listened… But nothing answered her straining ears.

Disturbed, Tauriel feared she had indeed lost her prey. With a weary sigh, she swallowed and stepped down onto the soft dirt- right onto a set of boot tracks. Crouching rapidly, Tauriel bent to better analyze them. They were old… Maybe a few weeks. And small for an elf. Why, if she didn't know better she'd say… And suddenly she saw more. A whole set of multiple, cluttered tracks, large and small.

These were dwarf and elf tracks. And this, she realized all at once, was the very place she and Legolas' company had come upon the traveling group of thirteen. Thorin Oakenshield's company.

Suddenly, Tauriel felt sick to her stomach. Clenching her eyes shut, Tauriel tried resisting the rising tide of emotion flooding within her. But alas, she could not hold back the violent wave of grief that she had been stubbornly resisting these past weeks. The sorrow could be held back no more.

She had done a valiant job of throwing herself into her new work and distracting herself with various entertainments, but such things could only fool her for so long. She was still a very hurt, very unstable person.

Lowering slowly, she sank onto the forest floor where her fingers tenderly traced the outline of Kili's boot marks. Marks which were soon moistened by her falling tears.

Tauriel cried, though she scarcely could make out why. The disappointment of having lost such a young love perhaps? But, she had scarcely known Kili, much less had time to seriously contemplate what any kind of future with him could hold. Surely, that was not it. She supposed she could be grieving Kili's life for the loss that it was. He'd been such a lively, hopeful person, passionate and honest. The world needed more souls like his. Yes, that must be it.

Allowing herself another few moments to shed the last of her tears, Tauriel eventually rose, determined to cover the ground necessary to complete her full shift. With red eyes and an aching heart, she continued on her path through the woods.

How she missed the days when her heart had not known the pain she did now. She had roamed these woods with the unwavering confidence and authority of a captain, free and charismatic, respected and honored. The friend of the Prince. The pride of her King.

Maybe this was the source of her grief? The loss of the person she once had been? But did she truly wish she'd remained ignorant and docile, not bothering to explore the world or challenge her king when he knew he did wrong? It seemed shallow of her to even contemplate this reality, but there it was.

For who was she now anyway? A scout. A lonely, shameful excuse for a soldier, scarcely able to hold herself together when stumbling upon some old tracks on a routine patrol. For the first time ever, Tauriel clearly saw the severity of her fall.

But the most disturbing part of all, was that she feared she would never again have the strength to rise.

…

The silence of the lounge hall was comfortable. Being alone was no longer a strange thing to the king these evenings. It had taken him some time to adjust to the absence of the prince's presence, but those unhappy nights were over with. Now Thranduil could rest in the quietness of the room as he sat, lounging in his evening robe, on one of his couches. Upon his side table sat an assortment of fine beverages, none of which he had indulged in save some hot black tea.

And upon the king's lap, lay a series of precisely drawn maps. His interests had shifted back to geological studies ever since Legolas had been away. Perhaps this was due to the fact that Thranduil preferred to comfort himself with ideas of where his adventuring son might currently be. Judging from the point of departure at the cusp of Lone Mountain, Legolas might very well be traversing through the wild lands of Rohan by now. A strange place indeed, with an astonishing lack of trees. Too many valleys. Surely it could be no decent place for a woodland elf, but Legolas always had liked his fair share of landscapes. It was a quality that Thranduil wholly lacked. Perhaps he was too much of a traditionalist, but the woods were his home, and always would be.

Lowering his thoughtful eyes back upon the inked sketch of the Lonely Mountain, Thranduil eyed the picture of the dragon, Smaug. Slowly, he blotted the image out with his thumb. New maps would have to be drawn and disbursed through the land, ones which no longer displaced Smaug, for the threat of the dragon no longer ruled that region. It was odd to accept this fact as reality. For so long the dragon had caused unease in the region, that Thranduil had resolved to live with the inconvenience much like one would come accustomed to a splinter that had submerged beneath one's skin.

Now that the Fire Serpent from the North had met its end, Thranduil was looking upon the world with fresh eyes. Hence, the reason for this New Age Feast he was hosting. It was a glorious thing, to be freed of fear. The occasion was well worth significance.

And with the New Age Feast now on his mind, Thranduil thence decided that he desired an update on a certain scout's recent studies. It had been three days since her last report, and Thranduil was anxious for more decisions to be made. Just today the cooks had begun to badger him about what manner of foods should be served at the event, for they wanted time to prepare.

Wasting no time, Thranduil stood, rolling away the maps, and paced to his desk. Calling for a guard, he commanded the servant to summon Tauriel, and the armored elf left immediately to carry out the order. Thranduil then took his seat at the desk, reclining in it with a leisurely air, and began to hum. It was an ancient tune, one his own good father, Oropher had taught him. Why it had just now come to his mind, he did not know, but it entertained him to recall the notes. The lyrics, he could not precisely remember. Presently, the sound of footsteps were detected, and his humming ceased.

Thranduil noticed the moment that Tauriel entered his study that she was not well. She put forward a good show, laying out her study notes on the desk before him and demonstrating that despite her low spirits, she was still determined to behave suitably in his presence. It was admirable, but ultimately tiresome.

Every once in a great while, the king did prefer frankness over feigned pleasantries.

Still, he let Tauriel speak of the New Age Celebratory customs of their people, and explain to him the nature of several of her interesting findings. At last, in conclusion to her speech, she ended with a question.

"What is my Lord's opinion on the matter of the customary food selections? Do you find the tradition of these preferred pastries agreeable?"

Thranduil deliberately allowed a long silence to hang in the air.

Up until this point, Tauriel had been keeping her eyes busily fixed on the various note scrolls upon the desk, pointing to each of her sketches when referencing them, and the informational contexts she'd written beside them. But when the king did not respond immediately, and in fact, did not respond at all, Tauriel finally dared to turn her gaze over to look inquiringly at him.

She was met by his very own intense set of blue flints, sparking with mystery and dare she say...mischief?

Her lips parted slightly, truly puzzled at his look.

"Your Majesty?" She prompted, even as her heart began to speed up in response to some unknown power her king's eyes held over her.

Slowly, Thranduil sat forward in his desk chair, unclasping the hands he'd held previously under his chin and leaning over the desk to place a hand over her notes, pointing lazily at one of her drawings.

"You drew these?" He inquired. Tauriel blinked, hardly able to understand what this had to do with the questions she'd just asked.

"I did," she answered.

"I'd no idea you possessed talents for sketching," Thranduil admitted, sounding a bit perturbed. His displeasure at being unaware of this tiny little fact was quite comical to Tauriel. Especially since he was well informed on practically everything within his palace walls.

"I may venture to say that his Highness does not know everything about me- as of yet," Tauriel replied, unable to suppress the smile of amusement tugging on the corners of her lips.

"That may be so," Thranduil conceded, turning over a note page to examine the one underneath it, "But I would wager that I know the source for why you are in such low spirits this afternoon…"

Tauriel swallowed, undoubtedly taken off guard by his directness. Looking up from the notes then, Thranduil eyed her pointedly.

"Have a seat, Tauriel, if you please," he ordered. Submissively, Tauriel fetched the chair waiting the opposite side of the desk, and lowered herself into it. Her pensive expression revealed that she was extremely clueless as to what conversation was to come. Thranduil did not intend to keep her in suspense.

"The dwarf still lies heavily upon your mind, I think," Thranduil deduced, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You were grieving him today?"

His tone was not interrogative, but soft and compelling. For some reason, Tauriel did not feel harassed by having this subject brought into the open.

"Yes, my Lord," she answered steadily, uncertain how much the king wished for her to share. As if reading her mind, Thranduil gestured towards her in a manner that was indicative for her to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Tauriel went into a short account of how she had come upon the foot prints in the forest that day during her patrol.

"Not surprising. Those dwarves could not follow a brick path clearly laid before their feet to save their lives," Thranduil commented dryly. Tauriel grimaced, clearly displeased at her king's admonishment of the people she'd come to admire. Sensing his statement was unhelpful, Thranduil cleared his throat.

"Please continue. What did you feel upon discovering the tracks?" He pressed patiently.

Reluctant at first, Tauriel tentatively began to divulge her story. It was not apparent to Thranduil if the she-elf was in fact sharing everything, but he did recognize and commend that Tauriel was allowing herself to be somewhat vulnerable.

"I do not know what to do with this sorrow that now resides in my heart," Tauriel confessed soberly. "If there was only a way to carve it out and be done with it…"

Thranduil pursed his lips, regarding her with sympathy.

"It will do you no good," He offered at last, "to wish to be rid of this new burden. The sooner that you learn to accept that it is now a permanent part of you, the easier these next days will be for you," He supplied.

Tauriel's brows pinched together.

"How? How can I do this?" She besieged.

"By not being afraid of the sorrow. It can do nothing of any consequence to you, unless you let it," Thranduil instructed knowledgeably. "The waves of grief come and go. Do not resist them, simply let them break upon you when they will. In struggling against them, you will only succeed in tiring yourself. You will find a rather comforting rhythm soon enough, and the familiarity of it may one day be a welcome thing."

Tauriel lowered her gaze back to the notes that sat upon the desk before her, earnestly trying to wrap her mind around the advice being given to her. She almost wished he would write his words down, so that she might re-read them in times of weakness. At last, she nodded.

"I believe I understand you. I shall do my best," she promised sincerely.

Encouraged by Tauriel's acceptance of his words, Thranduil let some warmth shine through his eyes.

"Very good."

And just as rapidly as the discussion had begun, it was over, and conversation returned to the matter at hand.

…

If enduring the skepticism of her peer scouts was bad enough to begin with, it was a thousand times less endurable when Castor finally discovered just where Turiel was sneaking off to after her shifts. One day, he cornered her quite abruptly to make known his thoughts on the subject.

"Do not bother denying what I am about to say. I have already followed you and found you out. Your secret rendezvous with His Majesty must stop," Castor hissed, snatching away the bow in which Tauriel had been hard at work mending.

Tauriel's jaw dropped in utter astonishment, but had no time to speak before Castor was off with a second round of exclamations.

"I've no idea how or when this started- but I am putting an end to it! For your sake, and the sake of our entire military! How would it disgrace our king, and his subjects, should they discover he is paying special attentions to a lowly scout?! To his former Captain of the Guard?! It's scandalous! Completely scandalous! I would have thought you to have a better head upon your shoulders. How could you defile our king in such a way?" Castor ranted, his face contorted in fury, his eyes blazing, fiery holes in his sockets.

Tauriel leaped to a stand in outrage.

"How dare you! Making such assumptions about our Lord and King! Even if you had not disgraced yourself by slinking around after my whereabouts, you would have discovered the truth of matters soon enough," she snapped. Castor, still furious, went to speak, but Tauriel did not let him. "I have been ordered by his Highness to aid him in researching a celebration of importance, and have only ever met with him under his summons and circumstances of complete professionalism!" She defended hotly.

This caught Castor to the quick, and his dumbfounded expression soon gave way to a red flush that covered his features, revealing his feelings of mortification. He opened his mouth, but no sound came forth.

"You may ask the King yourself when you next are summoned to report to him, though I should say, bringing up the subject would do you no credit. His Lord would be most displeased to discover that you had been so sly as to spy upon himself and I and dare to concoct such incredible fantasies about us," Tauriel huffed hotly, snagging back the bow from his hands and promptly sitting back down onto her seat to proceed with her mending of the mangled weapon.

Castor, unable to make any sensible reply that did not further humiliate his person, swiftly turned about and walked away.

Ever since that day, Castor had no longer presumed to ask any questions, but his humiliation from the incident translated over to the want of unleashing certain wrath upon the female who had caused his embarrassment.

Tauriel was an easy target for him and the other scouts to pick on, even without any further prompting. And since Castor was the scout leader, he was able to implement more chores and harder labor upon Tauriel's schedule without drawing forth any curious questions from the others as to why.

The fallen Captain of the Guard suffered this injustice without any outward complaint. To bring this issue up to her King would only require her to explain the entire conversation she had had with Castor- and that was out of the question. She was not about to bring up the highly inappropriate assumption that had been made about the nature of their meetings. To even think that she and Thranduil could ever come together romantically was a sure proof of insanity.

In fact, she blushed just entertaining the thought. It was practically treason in and of itself to meditate on such a possibility. Even aside from the absolute obviousness that the king would never have her, Tauriel was absolutely certain that she could never want him.

If Tauriel could pride herself on anything anymore, it was that she knew herself to be very honest when it came to the matters of her own heart. And Thranduil, for all his admirable qualities, lacked a great deal of compassion. He did not know how to love anymore. Not since the passing of his own wife. Why, even Legolas had often spoken to Tauriel privately of how he felt his father lacked the ability to bestow the usual affections of a natural parent.

Any elf who could not find a way past his own woundings to show proper love towards his own son was certainly not a worthy candidate for a marital partner. And besides all this, Thranduil was so much older than she. Granted, there probably had been marriages between elves of Thranduil's age and hers before… But still. Tauriel could not condone it.

In fact, she resolved to put this whole line of ridiculous thought behind her. But oh, if only Legolas had been here… She could have someone to share the laughs with. Instead, she felt more likely to cry. To dwell on the concept of love, especially love unachievable, was utterly depressing.


	4. Chapter 4

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

Part Four

...

The month was nearly at its end. The feast was close in coming, and Thranduil panicked that all would not be ready. Or, he came as close to panicking as a generally stoic, cold tempered king could be.

His frustrations, though not shared verbally, revealed themselves in other forms that were most agitating for the palace staff. Thranduil's royal draper had a hard time of it- having had orders to change the palace hall decor three times before the king could make up his mind.

The Royal Guard had been commissioned to check and then re-check the main roads in which their soon coming visitors would travel through Mirkwood. Even after they were reported to be perfectly secure, Thranduil thought it necessary to send ahead a league of his best troops to meet with, and then accompany their guests on their journey towards the castle. The scouts were put on double duties as well, since the king wanted to be absolutely certain no harm would befall the coming Elf Lords and Ladies.

But the palace staff who had the worst of Thranduil's impatience by far, were his royal tailors.

"This is becoming insufferable," one tailor muttered to the other, as they made their way from the king's private chambers for the fourth time that day. The king had ordered for another round of fittings that day, for some of his tunics did not please him.

"If he were not His Majesty the King, I might say he was behaving unusually," murmured the other, most unhappily.

"This should be a joyous occasion, so why are we about ready to pull our hair out? My fingers are sore from all the threading I've done this past week" rejoined the first.

"I heard it from one of his man servants that he received a letter today, from the Prince!"

"Do you think it contained some manner of ill news?"

"I can easily imagine that it might have,"

Tauriel, who had been summoned by his Highness, was walking the halls, and had just passed the two tailors, thereby catching the tail end of their conversation. Her step faltered; her lungs caught.

Legolas had written! Sudden joy, accompanied by a revived ache of heart, stirred in her chest. What manner of news had he to deliver? Was it good, or bad? She could scarcely wait to learn! Rushing her last few yards to the double doors of the king's lounge room, Tauriel opened the doors herself without the help of the guards standing there.

Face flushed and hopes high, she searched for Thranduil, and immediately beheld him standing outside on his private terrace. A nearly empty glass of red wine was set on the balcony that the king leaned his elbows upon. He did not turn to greet her. He simply continued to stare out into the distance at the forest view before him.

Tauriel hesitated. Usually the king addressed her before she approached. But he was silent. Surely he knew she was here? Glancing over at his wine cabinet, Tauriel noted the wine bottle sitting out and decided to retrieve it. She brought it as an offering as she stepped onto the terrace, her steps making little sound on the marble floor.

With a soft clink, she poured more from the wine bottle into his glass.

Only when she was finished and she had re-corked the bottle did Thranduil speak.

"No doubt you already know that a letter came from Legolas. He will not be attending the New Age Feast,"

Tauriel felt her excitement dampen. Yet she refused to stay down hearted. Her king needed cheering.

"I did not know you had sent a messenger to him. Where is he?" She inquired softly.

"Now I can not say, but he was traveling through Rohan when he received my letter," Thranduil answered.

"And… He is doing well?" She prompted. Thranduil nodded once.

"As well as a wayward prince could be,"

Tauriel smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in it.

"He will return soon, I know he will," Tauriel encouraged, "Though it does grieve me that he will not be returning in time for the feast."

The king nodded and stood to his full height.

"Yes, it will be a shame," he sighed, taking his wine glass in his hand.

"Especially since Lord Elrond will be bringing his daughter with him. I always thought she and Legolas would make a suitable match," he mused, lifting his glass to his lips for a sip.

Tauriel just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. For a moment, she'd thought Thranduil was being vulnerable and opening up about how much he wished to see his son. How silly of her.

Thranduil turned his gaze knowingly over to her, eyes glittering in wicked amusement. He was such a tease!

"Did you have something important to discuss with me?" Tauriel questioned, wondering just why he had called her in here in the first place.

"Actually, I wanted your opinion on something in regards to the feast," Thranduil admitted, now turning to leave the terrace and re-enter his suite. Tauriel followed him and they walked over towards a large map of the castle that was sprawled out upon his floor.

"As a scout, and my events consultant, I thought you would have adequate insight as to where I should have the guard's posted in each room. Banquet tables and party arrangements will take up much of this area here," he stated, pointing with his boot toe to the place on the map.

Over the next hour, they coordinated together over the guard posts. Tauriel did not realize that this job did not concern her anymore until after she was leaving his bed chambers. She was no longer his Captain of the Guard. Her say in these matters as a lowly scout should not have meant anything. And yet, Thranduil had wanted her opinion specifically, and no other. Perhaps he had temporarily forgotten of her demotion and was so accustomed to consulting her, that he had called her out of old routine? Surely, he would not seek out her opinion for any other reason...

Right?

Tauriel retired to her own quarters, knowing that her scouting shift would begin soon, but having just enough time to think on these matters. Castor had accused her not long ago of manipulating her way into King Thranduil's affections. Naturally, she had denied any plot of the sort. There was absolutely nothing romantic going on between her and the King.

And yet, there was something forming between them. So much hurt surrounded them, so much negative history, it seemed impossible for them to set aside their differences and get along. But grief and tragedy had a way of softening hearts. Maybe that was all this was.

Thranduil had already lost his wife, and now it felt as if he was losing his son. Tauriel had lost her first true love and her prestigious position. And here they were, suffering together, leaning on one another. Bitterness had given way to grace, hardness had made way for understanding. Empathy went a long way in repairing relationships.

Tauriel sat down onto her bed and reflected on the king's smiles and looks that he liked to give her. She doubted anyone else knew about that side of him, save for Legolas. And even with Legolas, Tauriel was sure the king acted differently.

Smiling, Tauriel couldn't help but feel warm at the memory of Thranduil's teasing smirks and his playful ribs. So what if he found entertainment in riling her up? That was simply a testimony to the familiarity they had a with one another. Even if the attention did make her feel…special. Alright, so there was something between them, and she was inclined to think it was a unique kind of camaraderie.

That was all. And it was enough.

As it was, Tauriel did not see nor hear from the king again until the day of the feast.

...

At the first glimpse of the new moon, which peeked out from a misty sky, the new age was officially welcomed by the elf people with the sounding of one hundred of the finest bugle horns. And what a glorious evening did commence. Tauriel could not remember a time she had been so in awe of the beauty of the Woodland Palace. The every room and hall was decorated with lights that glistened so brightly they rivaled the night stars. Beautifully woven tapestries hung from the ceilings just for the celebration, and blooming flowers of every kind were placed along each hallway, stairway, and displayed by every door entrance. Elves were dressed in their finest attires, the males strutting around with pride while the females gracefully meandered the ballroom with the effortless beauty of a flock of doves.

Yet none of the she-elfs held a candle to the absolute stunning figure of the Lady of Lorien herself; the shining star of their people. She was the epitome of female perfection, and the living model in which every she-elf strove to become. Turiel had only seen Galadriel a total of four times throughout her lifetime, and each encounter were moments so precious that she committed every single detail to memory with utmost acuteness. The instant one beheld the Lady Galadriel, there was simply no other reaction one could have but to commit your whole heart's complete adoration towards the one who held the title of "Fairest Lady of All."

Even now, Tauriel could not convince her eyes to depart from the entrancing sight of the lovely mistress, who sat in all white robes at the honorary throne chair adjoined to the other nobles seated at the head feast table. To Galadriel's right, sat her noble yet somewhat grim husband, Lord Celeborn. If Tauriel had thought Thranduil to be stingy with his smiles, Lord Celeborn would cause one to believe he lacked the ability altogether. Just how this quiet and serious lord had managed to beguile the heart of such an incredible jewel as Galadriel, Tauriel could not begin to surmise.

Accompanying the couple at the noble's table, sat the imperial Lord Elrond, along with his two proud sons and demure daughter. It was safe to say, that while the sons did not warrant any special attention, the daughter was a great pleasure to behold. Though Arwen appeared in every way opposite in complexion compared to Galadriel, there was no doubt she had inherited her grandmother's ageless beauty and gentle demeanor. Certainly Arwen had no lack of suitors pursuing her hand. As it was, Thranduil was quite taken with her.

The King of the Woodland Realm was looking particularly illustrious this festive eve. Granted, it was not often that Thranduil could not find some excuse to look magnificent, but in the company of these other influential rulers, he had not spared any amount of grandeur.

His robes were made of velvet, wine red in color and decorated with silver and gold thread patterns all throughout. The tail of the robe dragged along the floor for a good six feet behind his heels. How he ever managed not to stumble over such extensive fabric, Tauriel couldn't fathom. His tunic beneath the robe was a rich forest green, and his boots were polished to stark black perfection. To finish off the look, he wore his court crown upon his brow, and his silver blonde hair was woven into a series of long, intricate braids.

But beyond just his attire, there was a gaiety about Thranduil's mood that was positively contagious. Never before had Tauriel observed her king as being so happy. Or at least, appearing to be. It was certainly difficult to tell if he wasn't actually being sincere. He conversed easily, drawing forth many amused laughs, (save for from Celeborn of course) and devoted strategic, individual time with each of the nobles.

Currently, it was Arwen he was fawning over. Tauriel patiently watched from her guard position at the end of the banquet hall near the room pillars, acutely aware of how Thranduil was letting his smoldering blue eyes charm the young daughter of Lord Elrond into utter submission. Perhaps, if Arwen hadn't been quite so pretty, or behaved with less naivety, Tauriel would not be so uncomfortable having to watch their interactions.

Tauriel well knew that Thranduil had always intended this Arwen for Legolas' future bride. Even after so much recent change, this was a subject which still rubbed her the wrong way. Too easily could Tauriel recall the cold, frank words of her king when he had once rebuked her from ever raising her thoughts to Legolas in that way. For who was she to be elevated to such a position of power? Nothing but a lowly Silvan Elf. It was no matter if Legolas himself preferred the Captain of the Guard over a princess. Thranduil would not have it.

And now, even with Legolas absent, Thranduil still praised and doted upon Arwen without reserve, doing his best to nurture these good relations in preparation for his plans to come. It was disgusting. Tauriel could hardly stand to watch.

Even if Legolas was far from her reach, and her heart was still so far from being mended over Kili, Tauriel could not help but feel slighted. Had she been so foolish to believe that over the course of the last month, she and Thranduil had formed some small understanding of one another amidst their private hours conversing over the feast preparations? Was the king's respect of her still so insignificant that he had no qualms about displaying his favored opinion of Arwen? What other message could Thranduil possibly be conveying other than confirming that he still thought Arwen was the superior choice over herself on any given day?

It was a snub. Whether Thranduil would admit it or not, this was most definitely a snub. Her clever king had picked the most subtle of ways to remind Tauriel of her lowly place, without even having to say a word. It was a well calculated and completely callous move on his part. After all the encouragement Thranduil had been giving to her, after all the confidences they had shared, this was where they truly stood? Why, she wondered, did he bother at all with her? If socialistic ladders and politics were the foremost of Thranduil's true concerns, what satisfaction did he gain from confusing her in this heartless way? It was nothing short of misleading.

On top of these matters, Tauriel was certain that the king was actively ignoring her. He knew where she was posted, they had planned the guard positions together! And yet, he hadn't so much as sent her a single glance since the evening celebrations had begun. Tauriel knew she didn't look half as lovely as the princesses and royal ladies here, but she had dressed in something more festive than her usual green uniform. Of course, being a guard, she had restrictions for what was and wasn't appropriate to wear. That being said, she had been able to play in between the lines just enough to throw something fun together. It wasn't often she got to dress for a special occasion. She'd been excited about it. She'd wanted to know what Thranduil thought of her efforts.

But his eyes were too invested in Arwen's to notice.

Tauriel sighed, forcing herself to pay attention to the other people in the room. The entire banquet hall was full of seated guests, enjoying their third course with servants standing dutifully by their elbows. Glancing to her left, Tauriel took in the lineup of other guards standing at their assigned posts. The only soldier from their ranks allowed a seat at the banquette table was the newly appointed Captain of the Guard. It was customary that the Captain would be awarded that honor, and had Turiel not been demoted, she would have had that seat. Instead, Castor sat proudly, making doe eyes at the nearest lady.

When Thranduil had chosen Castor to fill Tauriel's place, she could not refrain from wrinkling her nose. Castor was an incredibly skilled warrior, to be sure, but he had an ego a mile wide and a temper to go with it. The day the news was given of Castor's newly appointed position, the entire force had groaned. Ever since, Castor could not finish a single sentence without reminding everyone of his position while simultaneously praising the king. Tauriel could not understand why Thranduil would chose him of all the elves.

Why, Tauriel had been treated with even worse contempt by her fellow scouts lately, and all because of the special attention the king had bestowed on Castor. Somehow, they saw this as her fault, perhaps for letting herself get demoted in the first place. Now they all had to suffer under Castor's lead. And meanwhile, just to better rub in the fact that he had replaced her, Castor employed subtle devices to torment Tauriel in specific. And he did so in highly convenient ways. For example: on top of her regular duties, Tauriel had been given the most of the night shifts, often staying up late into the morning, only to come back exhausted and be expected to continue her usual routines. She had also been given the farthest, most challenging areas of the forest to navigate in her perimeter watch for danger. But the most humiliating position of all, was that of the weapons cleaner. She sharpened, waxed and polished each of the scouts' bows and blades, even though she was well aware of the mockery it made of her.

It was no wonder, Tauriel reflected, that she was harboring cross feelings towards her king this evening. She felt abandoned, as if he had intentionally left her high and dry with an insufferable taskmaster. Turning her eyes from the disgusting sight of Castor's attempts at flirting, her attention was captured by some new additions to the ranks.

A section of the room had been reserved for the guard force who had come with the Lady of Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, from the Land of Lothlorien. Instead of the crisp greens and golds of the Mirkwood warriors, these soldiers donned uniforms of exquisite blues and silvers. They were magnificent to behold. Tauriel liked to look at them.

One of them must have noticed, because he met her gaze with his charming blue eyes and a small smile on his lips. Tauriel quickly looked away, embarrassed. She hadn't meant to stare. And now that guard wouldn't stop looking at her. Tauriel did her best to pretend she didn't notice, but it was difficult. Especially since the guard was quite handsome.

There hadn't been much time to make introductions within the soldier quarters before the celebration began. Simply a voice shouting out assigned posts and scurrying movements to accomplish a multitude of duties. In the madness, Tauriel hadn't time to speak to any of the visiting warriors, but now that she thought about it, she did recognize the face of the elf looking at her. He had stood near the front of his troop upon the Lorien Guard's first arrival, she believed.

Suddenly a bell rang and the third course was over. Servants moved forward and took away the dishes while a second set of servants approached with the fourth course. Tauriel felt her mouth salivating as the platter lids were removed and the smell of steamed pork and venison wafted through the air. Everything had been prepared just as Tauriel had researched from the history texts telling of the New Age Feasts. And now she wouldn't even be able to taste it. Not unless there were leftovers. After the fourth course was over, Thranduil rose to his feet and gave a toast. Everyone hushed to listen to his words.

"To all my esteemed guests and to those of you who made this event so grand, I want to thank you for attending. Having you here brings more joy to me than I can say. Yet, we are not here simply to feast. We are here to commemorate the passing of an age, and welcome the one to come. It has not been an easy transition. As the King whose eyes gazed upon the Battle of the Five Armies and saw the defeat of our ancient enemies, I know first hand the sacrifices that were made to achieve this great victory. Tonight, it is my wish to honor the lives of those lost: elf, dwarf, and man. Without our combined efforts, we would not be celebrating this new age with the hope that resides in our hearts this eve. And so, let us raise our glasses… Hail! Our fallen heroes!"

The entire hall recited the woodland king's toast and drank. Tauriel laid a hand over her breast, tears in her eyes. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected Thranduil to share in the honor and glory of victory with those he once had regarded as so detestable. And to do so before all of the elf kingdoms… It touched her on a profound level. And then her king was looking at her. Their eyes met across the room, and more was spoken in that single glance than could ever have been communicated with their lips. A thousand lovely thoughts and affectionate feelings passed between them, as if a cord connected their hearts. An eternity passed before Thranduil broke eye contact with her to engage his guests in further conversation. Tauriel was left breathless. What had just happened?

Desperately, she tried to shake off that lingering feeling… that feeling that something wonderful had just passed between them. But she couldn't get the memory of his eyes out of her head. Maybe it was foolish, but Tauriel was certain Thranduil had included the men and dwarves in his speech just for her. At some point, she managed to break free of her dazed state, and she realized that servants were coming to clear the tables and make way for their guests to enter the ballroom. Dances were to begin soon and the dinner guests were leaving their chairs and finding partners. Thranduil stood, waiting for the rest of the esteemed Lord's and Ladies to collect themselves, before he took the arm of Lady Galadriel. Clearly, he was not about to miss his opportunity to pay her proper respects. Together, they led the way.

The guards all changed their positions, assuming their second round posts, and Tauriel moved with them. She placed herself near the door to the large balcony that jutted out from the ballroom and provided a spectacular view of the woods. Tauriel was glad she'd been posted somewhere that she could enjoy a bit of the outside breeze. Her face felt flushed and she desperately needed some fresh air. Just as Tauriel got settled, she realized the handsome male elf from earlier was walking her direction. She stiffened as he took up his guarding post right beside her, folding his hands behind his back and watching as the dancing began. Singing flutes filled the air, joined shortly after by the steady beat of the drums and the soft plucking of the harp strings.

"Am I right in recalling that your name is Tauriel?" the elf suddenly asked, not moving his eyes from the dance floor. Tauriel stole a sideways glance at him.

"You are,"

"How relieving it is to have a reliable memory,"

"I'm sure it is. I'm sorry to say, mine is failing me at the moment. Do I know you?" Tauriel inquired. King Thranduil and Lady Galadriel took the middle of the floor, surrounded by other couples, and Tauriel fixed her eyes steadily upon them.

"Perhaps by name, but we have not met face to face before," the elf replied, "I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lorien."

Haldir? Yes, Tauriel had most certainly heard of him. He had a large reputation amidst the guards, and was well talked about in all elf kingdoms. Haldir's long history of his services under the Lady of the Wood were unparalleled. Tauriel had frequently wondered what it would be like to meet him and see what he thought of her. Only now, she was no longer Captain of the Guard, or left with anything honorable to her name. She knew all too well what one such as he might be thinking of her just now.

"Haldir, yes that is a name in which I am familiar," she admitted. "May I ask why you should trouble yourself with speaking to the likes of me? Is it even possible that you have not yet heard about my fall from grace?" Truly, she could not foresee a single reason for why the Marchwarden would want to take time out of his night to speak with her.

"Ah yes. I've heard. Quite the scandal, I must say. But all the more reason I knew I must meet you."

Tauriel could not refrain from looking over at him. Haldir was already smiling at her.  
"I can't imagine why. I'm nothing more than a sorry creature who serves as a cautionary tale to other aspiring soldiers," Tauriel murmured. Haldir's soft blue eyes lowered in sympathy.

"Whether you realize it or not, there are still those in the armed forces who respect you. You acted courageously for what you believed in, and pursued it selflessly, despite the consequences. If you think the rest of us don't ever have our own doubts from time to time, you are wrong. You did what many of us have only dreamed of doing: defying authority is sometimes what must be done to stand up for what is right. And if I were to judge… I would say King Thranduil has been changed for the better by it. His toast speech alone was enough to prove to me that his heart has somehow been opened. And if I could be so bold to say, I think it's because of you. You started this movement," Haldir took a step nearer. "It's a beautiful thing. Just like you."

Tauriel found herself blushing. She'd heard that Haldir was a smooth talker, and quite a favorite with the ladies, but she hadn't in any way expected something like this. She looked down, flustered and tried to think of a proper way to respond. Luckily, it was just then the dance finished and a couple happened to walk past them onto the balcony. Tauriel cleared her throat.

"I'm surprised you are working instead of enjoying the festivities with the other honored guards."

"I was invited to join in, yes, but I chose to work instead. I don't exactly enjoy rubbing elbows with the upper-classes," Haldir answered with a small shrug.

"Interesting. And here I was, suspecting it was because you can't dance," Tauriel smirked. Haldir looked over at her and grinned mischievously.

"Would you like to find out?"

"I highly doubt that would be proper," Tauriel remarked, "We're on duty."

"When does your shift end?"

"Midnight,"  
"The royals will be staying here for a few days, as is tradition. We could… reconvene later this evening…"

"Tempting offer," Tauriel admitted.

"Then meet me in the south gardens after midnight. I'll wait for you by the Great Oak,"

"Don't hold your breath. I might be too tired by then to be interested in dancing," Tauriel warned. Haldir chuckled softly.

"Oh, I get the feeling you won't dissapoint me…"

And with that, the Marchwarden strode away to take up a different position in the room. Tauriel watched him go, unsure how she felt. Flattered, definitely, but beyond that… She just felt sad.

Haldir was the first male to show any romantic interest in her since Kili… She swallowed, suddenly feeling sick. That was when she noticed Thranduil. He was leading Lady Arwen onto the dance floor, his long robes trailing behind him as they took their places. Tauriel watched as the couple stole all eyes in the room, taking entire command of the floor. Their dancing was magnificent, like watching two independent halves of the same body working perfectly together. Tauriel couldn't deny the longing that was rising in her heart. A dance looked wonderful. It wouldn't betray Kili's memory to let herself enjoy one dance with a kind soldier, would it? As she watched Thranduil turn on his heels, pivoting in graceful, calculated rhythm about the beautiful Arwen, Tauriel made up her mind. If Thranduil could dance with another maiden and not feel guilty about dishonoring his deceased wife, then she certainly could dance with another male. And, she would have fun. For the first time in a long time, she would let herself have real _fun_.


	5. Chapter 5

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

Part Five

...

Midnight came much faster than Tauriel was ready for. Despite her determination to take Haldir up on his offer, she couldn't help the fact that her anxiety levels climbed to an all time high from the moment she quitted her shift and began her walk to the gardens. She kept a slow, creeping pace as she descended the staircase leading down into the gardens, but her her heartbeat was raging like she'd just completed a marathon. It wasn't like she was about to do anything wrong, so why did she feel the need to sneak around? It made no sense, and she tried to shake the sensation off.

The gardens were spectacularly lit this festive eve. There was not a tree that did not twinkle with lanterns, nor a fountain that did not glow, reflecting the night's moon light. Flowers bloomed in every bush and their fragrant scents mingled pleasantly in the air. Yet the most splendid sight of them all, was that of the Grand Old Oak that stood in the center of the garden's fantastic landscape. Its strong, long branches reached out in all directions, acting as a natural canopy. The tree itself was over one thousand years old, and as healthy as ever. Beside the thick tree trunk, stood the figure of an elf. His back was to her, and Tauriel's steps faltered momentarily. She was actually doing this. Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead. Haldir turned when he heard her footsteps and he smiled in satisfaction.

"I knew I could count on you," he remarked, stepping boldly forward and right into her personal-very personal-space. Gently, he took hold of her hand, and his skin was warm to the touch. The sweet music from the ballroom could be heard echoing from the palace terraces above the gardens.

"Shall we?" he asked, drawing her out into a roomy space of grass. She allowed herself to be led by him, and guided into her proper position. He placed his other hand at the small of her back, just barely brushing her hip, and pulled her close. Tauriel swallowed thickly, having forgotten completely what it was like to be held in such a way by a male. She willed herself to relax, telling her muscles to loosen and not stay so rigid. Haldir would surely be able to tell if she was the slightest bit uncomfortable. As it was, his riveting blue eyes searched her face with all the power of an actual caress. Tauriel had to look down and away, shying from the intensity of his gaze. Then, he stepped off, taking the lead, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm. In the beginning, Tauriel mentally checked off her steps, paying close attention to the movements. It had been a long time since she had last danced. One two three, one two three.

"I'm glad you came," Haldir said, interrupting her concentration.

"Well, I was curious to find out just what kind of dancer you really are," she replied. "One can't believe every rumor they hear, especially about such a famous Marchwarden."

"You've heard rumors of my dancing?" Haldir inquired, bemused.

"More specifically about your womanizing," Tauriel replied bluntly, suddenly lifting her gaze to meet his with a challenging air. If they were going to be out here together, she didn't want any false pretenses. This wasn't a romantic meeting. This was simply a friendly dance. With the truth of his character now exposed, Tauriel hoped Haldir would be inspired to play the role of a true gentleman. However, to her surprise, Haldir threw back his head and laughed.

"I would surely like to hear just what kind of elaborate rumors have been formulated about me," he admitted through his fading chuckles. "Whatever they may be, they are already more exciting than my reality." At this, Tauriel couldn't help but cock her brow.

"Surely you're not trying to deny that you have experience with wooing women?"

"I'm not certain chatting occasionally with fellow female soldiers and asking for the occasional dance at holiday activities constitutes as 'wooing'," Haldir smirked. Well, this was not at all what Tauriel had expected.

"So you're not the smooth talking, romancer that revels in sweeping the ladies off their feet?" Tauriel challenged. Haldir gave a light shrug, spinning her with practiced grace away from him before bringing her back into his arms and dipping her backwards in a sudden move that required Tauriel to have to trust her balance completely to him. The maneuver quite literally, caused her to come up off her feet.

"I never said I couldn't sweep ladies off their feet," Haldir smiled charmingly, slowly drawing her back up until they were nearly nose to nose.

"I'm just clarifying that I'm not the type of male who makes a habit of spending his best efforts on just any woman I happen across." Tauriel almost scoffed.

"Ah, I see, so you pick out the particularly desperate ones."

"Are you that desperate?"

"No!" Tauriel blushed, "I just meant, you must think I am, with nothing but my soiled reputation to recommend me."

Haldir chuckled as he spun her away, and they wove in perfect step around one another until they rejoined once more in the middle of their circle.

"Trust me, if you had nothing but a soiled reputation, I would not have been so eager to meet you," Haldir opposed. Once again he took her hand and with his other, he reached out and brought her hips closer to his own. The proximity between them was now so minimal, Tauriel could feel Haldir's hot breath on her cheek, and to her own surprise, a shiver ran down her spine. Haldir felt the change in her immediately. His blue eyes swept over to search her own, locking their gazes into place.

"I have something to confess," he said.

"Oh?"

"I've wanted to meet you for a long time now, actually. Ever since I heard about your rise to the rank of Captain of the Guard. 'Tis truly a shame that I've never gotten to see you in action. I hear your skills with a bow and arrow rival those of even Prince Legolas." Tauriel wouldn't deny that such flattery actually did make her feel quite good.

"You're too kind," she murmured.

"I report only what I've heard," Haldir grinned. "Whether this is true… I'll have to see for myself," he remarked. Tauriel smiled.

"What are you suggesting?"

"That if you aren't too tired of me by the end of this night, you may consider showing me about the borders tomorrow afternoon during your scout shift?" Haldir inquired. Tauriel thought about it. Surely, bringing the Marchwarden couldn't hurt…

"So long as you have nothing better to do with your time," Tauriel answered at last. Haldir's smile softened and his blue eyes warmed as he looked at her.

"Truly, I can't think of anything I would enjoy more." For a long, suspended moment, there was nothing but the night air, the feel of his hands on her, and the sudden, unexplainable desire she felt when staring into his eyes. It was attraction, pure and simple. Of course, attraction was to be expected. Haldir was incredibly good looking. But when he leaned in, placing his lips tenderly over hers, it wasn't his bold action that caught Tauriel so off guard. It was the fact that she didn't want to push him away. Maybe it was crazy of her, wanting to kiss and be kissed so soon after such tragedy had taken place in her life. But right now, Tauriel didn't feel guilty. She wanted this. She needed this. To forget her pain and embrace this good moment.

And so, just as Haldir had begun to retract, she reciprocated, inviting him to continue. Their dancing ceased as they became invested in exploring each other. Tauriel felt Haldir's arms slowly encircling her, pulling her tighter against him, like he was desperate. They tilted their heads in opposite ways, trying different angles in order to explore all that their kisses had to offer. Tauriel was so lost in the sensations of their affectionate exchange that she did not hear the sound of somebody approaching, nor see the exact moment in which they were discovered. However, the moment she heard her king's voice call out to her, all the heat in her body was immediately stolen away and replaced by a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Tauriel?"

She and Haldir broke swiftly from each other in startled realization of their intruder. Flustered and out of breath, Tauriel turned to face in her king's direction. Like a charging lion, King Thranduil left the designated stone path he had been standing on and cut through the garden, carving his own way straight towards them. His long cape billowed behind him as he ate up the ground with massive strides, his steely blue eyes sparking like flints. Never before had Tauriel felt such dread…

…

Tauriel hadn't done anything wrong! So why did the sight of Thranduil evoke such a brutal onslaught of shame upon her soul? How had he even found her? Wasn't the party still going on? What was he doing out here in the garden? The elf king stormed forward and Tauriel quickly detangled herself from Haldir's embrace. The marchwarden, however, seemed reluctant and confused as to why he should be letting her go.

"What's wrong?" he implored quietly, but Tauriel shook her head and escaped his arms just as Thranduil came upon them. To Tauriel's horror, Thranduil fixed an incredibly savage expression directly upon the unsuspecting Haldir.

"If you are finished with my scout, marchwarden, I will take her back now. I have need of her," he hissed, his tone callous and cruel. Tauriel felt her cheeks heating with mortification. How could this be happening?

"I was informed that Tauriel was off duty after midnight," Haldir replied slowly, taking Thranduil's anger in stride. "I had no deliberate intentions of withholding her from her services to your highness."

Thranduil's fierce glare did not lessen.

"That may be very well, yet I would expect a soldier of your calibre to have more important matters to be attending to on this eve, not indulging in such trivial pursuits. I suggest you return to your troops, where you are wanted."

Tauriel's jaw dropped open and Haldir's eyes hardened. For a moment, Tauriel feared that he would do something drastic, so when Haldir simply bowed swiftly and turned to go, Tauriel gave a soft sigh of relief. She wouldn't have been able to bare seeing Haldir punished for something she had encouraged. It wasn't as if she had tried to thwart his flirtatious attentions, even though she very well could have. Should have. With Haldir gone, Tauriel found herself being escorted from the garden by the king, his hand locked securely around her wrist. He marched, dragging her beside him, like a beast with violent intentions. Why was he angry? Tauriel was the one who should be angry! And when she thought about it, she was. Nothing more than a trivial pursuit, was she? Her humiliation at Thranduil's behavior and his words could not go unanswered.

"How dare you!" she burst, yanking her hand free of his grip.

"How dare I?" Thranduil snapped.

"Yes! How dare you storm over and treat me- treat Haldir in such a way! What is so important that you could have needed to search me out after my work hours?!" she demanded, no longer afraid to stand toe to toe with this royal pain in her rear.

"You are questioning the validation of my need for my own scout?" Thranduil retorted crossly, looming over her with fury raining down from his eyes.

"Yes! What true need could you have of me?"

"I do not need to explain myself to you," Thranduil roared. "In fact, it is the opposite. What were you thinking? Convening in the middle of the night with that Lothlorien marchwarden! Do you have any idea of what kind of defiling rumors you could spread about yourself?"

"None worse off than what I have already endured, thanks to Castor! Why would you make him of all the elves your new Captain of the Guard?!" Tauriel shot back.

"Don't change the subject!"

"I just wanted a dance!" Tauriel cried. "That is all! I just wanted to enjoy myself for one night! We both worked so hard to make this evening come together, and I wanted to experience some enjoyment. You clearly were!"

"You think I was enjoying myself?" Thranduil challenged, his nostrils flaring, "You think I could honestly enjoy having to guard my actions and my speech so carefully all evening so that I did not say or do anything potentially offensive to these nobles? Having to strategize just who I would talk to and when, and what to say, and how to meet everyone's expectations so not one person felt slighted? I have been under extreme pressure this entire night to fulfill all of my expected obligations as the host. And just when I am finished with my duties for the evening, and I search for you, in the hopes that I will at least be able to have one single conversation with someone in whom I never need to play a part, I discover you in the last place I ever expected! Falling prey to that scandalous creature's influence! How could you let him coerce you so easily?"

Tauriel stared up at her king in stunned silence, her emotions running wild.

"I-I was not coerced," she defended at last, "I decided what I wanted."

Thranduil took a step back, as if she had physically struck him. The alarm in his eyes startled her.

"Are you drunk?" he demanded. Tauriel threw her arms up into the air.

"You know very well it is nearly impossible for elves to get drunk!"

"I cannot- I will not believe you were willing to let that cad bed you in good conscience," Thranduil growled out.

"Of course I was not going to let that happen!" Tauriel blurted, outraged, "It was a harmless kiss!"

"A kiss is never harmless," Thranduil retorted fiercely. Only then did Tauriel realize the that her cheeks were wet with tears.

"Why should you care? You called me a trivial pursuit," she whispered, hurt pouring out of her with every word. All hostility vanished from Thranduil's countenance, and the king slowly reached out to take tender hold of Tauriel's hand. She struggled to fight back silent sobs.

"Tauriel," he whispered her name so soft and so sweetly, she had to look up at him. "Please, trust me when I say, my care for you goes beyond anything I will ever allow myself to speak of..."

In the silence that followed, Thranduil lifted Tauriel's hand and caressed it with a reverent kiss. He held her hand there against his warm lips for an extended moment, and the tenderness of his simple action tore Tauriel's heart to pieces. But before she could think of what to do… what to say, he released her hand and stepped back.

"Goodnight," he said. And as he turned away, she thought she caught the faintest glimpse of unshed tears in his eyes. The instant he was gone, Tauriel rushed to the nearest garden bench and collapsed upon it, sobbing uncontrollably.

...

That night when she at last returned to her chambers, Tauriel found a tray of food waiting for her on her bed. Lifting the lid, her heart clenched at the sight of a full plate made up of delicious, warm leftovers from the feast. And beside it, lay a note from Thranduil… Tauriel could not bring herself to read it. Instead, she sat down and ate, sateing the hunger that had steadily been increasing in her as the night had waned on. She distracted herself with thoughts of Legolas, wondering where he was and when he would at last return to rescue her from the horrible shame and awkwardness that was eating away at her soul. By the time she finished her meal, she was too depressed and tired to even undress. She curled up upon her bed in her gown and drifted off into an exhausted sleep. If only her torment ended there. But it was not to be so. Nightmares plagued her mind's eye. First of an angry Thranduil chasing her with a sword, and then of Legolas at last returning to the kingdom but only to reveal that he had forgotten all about her. She awoke at last to a new morning, feeling just as wretched as she had the night before. Partaking of breakfast didn't seem to comfort her either. It seemed nothing would cure her of this heart sickness and she dared not touch the note sitting upon her bedside table. The last thing she wanted was to read any written words from her king.

Then, there was a knock on her door.


	6. Chapter 6

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

Part Six

...

After Tauriel made herself decent, sliding a silk robe around her form and smoothing her hair, she called for the knocker to enter. A hall guard opened the door, wearing illustrious silvers and blues from the Lothlorien Realm. He extended a letter out to her.

"A letter for you my lady," the guard explained. Tauriel took the letter carefully, thanking the guard for his service.

"You may go," she dismissed. Once the door was closed, Tauriel dared to open the envelope. It read:

 _Tauriel,_

 _Please accept my sincerest apology for the unpleasantness I caused last evening. I deeply regret having placed you in an awkward position and putting you at further odds with the King. I have written to him as well, expressing my sorrow on the subject and my promise to cease any further interference with your duties. I only pray this will help correct any damage I have done._

 _Yours respectfully,_

 _Haldir,_

 _March Warden of Lothlorien._

Tauriel sighed, lowering the letter and placing it on her desk. Well done, Thranduil, she thought angrily. You've successfully driven away my only prospect. Her fury from the night before swiftly returned and she marched to her bedside table and snatched up Thranduil's letter, only to toss it into her fireplace. She watched smugly as it crackled and burnt away, shriveling into black ash. Just like Thranduil's heart. Tauriel lifted her chin with steely determination and hurried to dress for her day. Whatever the King had written to her was irrelevant. He had overstepped a boundary and she would not forgive him for that. Even if he was her King. She was thankful the banquet was over with. Now she could return to her normal duties and avoid his royal highness entirely. No more private consultations on party matters, no more casual conversation. No more fond looks. Of course, there was still the danger that Thranduil would summon her to him when he did not receive a reply to the letter he had sent. So, the question was, how could she effectively avoid him without openly defying his orders?

When Tauriel arrived to the royal barracks, she was soon informed by fellow scouts of a forest patrol that was scheduled to leave that afternoon and relieve the guards at Mirkwood's borders. What fortunate timing! Tauriel put in a position transfer request to Castor immediately. She half expected him to put up a fight, considering he was inclined to always make things difficult, just for her. However, she was pleasantly surprised when he granted her request without question. It wasn't until she was leaving with the scouts that she heard their gossip of how Castor had gotten himself engaged to a respected elf lady from Rivendell. Poor girl. At least it had put him in a good enough mood to make her certain allowances. As Tauriel packed to go, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. She hoped Thranduil suffered while she was away. She doubted he would. But one could hope.

…

A concerning amount of days had passed that Thranduil was beginning to feel irritated. He hadn't meant to pay attention to just how many days had slipped by, but he knew there were enough to render Tauriel's complete lack of response to his letter as a declaration all in itself. At first, he had determined to give her space. Time to reflect and consider on its contents. He hadn't anticipated an immediate response. But he had expected something. Every night when he would retire to his chambers from a long day of entertaining his diplomatic guests, he wondered if her letter would be waiting for him. And every night he was disappointed.

At last the day came when Lord Elrond, his sons, and Lady Arwen departed with their people back to Rivendell. Thranduil had thought he might see Tauriel amidst the other guards who were present for the guest's leaving. But she was nowhere to be found. And again, two days later, when the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn too departed, Tauriel was not there. Not even to see her precious March Warden off? How cold. It had taken everything in Thranduil's power not to summon her that night, when all the chaos was over and the party atmosphere was as dead as he felt inside. He had sat alone in his chambers with a glass of whine, reflecting on his behavior and his regrets. Now that he did not have his guests in constant need of his attention, he was feeling the full weight of his remorse and loneliness. And it was quiet. Too quiet. He could actually hear the erratic rate of his heartbeat. How long had he been experiencing this anxiety? He suspected it had begun the night he'd found Tauriel in the arms of that warden. Couldn't she understand that Thranduil had only intended to protect her reputation?

Why, oh why would she not return his letter? She was still angry at him. There was no other answer. Well fine. She could stay angry all she liked. What did he care? He was King of the Woodland Realm. His stubbornness was ten times stronger than hers.

...

The King heaved a great sigh and threw down the finance reports he had been trying in earnest to read. Somewhere along the lines, his mind had wandered again, leaving his eyes to merely brush over the last two paragraphs without absorbing any of what it had to say.

"Tis no use," he huffed. The financier official sitting across the desk from him leaned forward in sudden concern.

"My Lord? Something displeases you?"

"The thing displeasing me is not in regards to my kingdom's finances, nor am I of mind to discuss it. Please leave, and I will summon you when I am ready to continue our business," the King commanded. The financier stood, bowed, and left the room swiftly. Thranduil rose from his own desk and paced to his terrace, overlooking the courtyard and the garden. It was there the fight with Tauriel had taken place, and oh how he despised it. Thranduil glared down upon the offensive bushes which bloomed too beautifully, and the trees which smelled too sweet, wafting up into the air he breathed. He was livid.

"Guards!" he shouted. He heard the footsteps of his loyal subjects rush into the room.

"Your highness,"

"Tell the gardeners I want the courtyard completely demolished by this afternoon. And send me a landscape architect, I want the entire garden redesigned," he ordered swiftly. As he spoke, his eyes never left the odious spot where he had stood and raged at Tauriel that disgusting night. It would forever haunt him if he didn't eradicate it now. The guards nodded, sensing his urgency, though they knew not why.

"Of course my King," they said in unison, then departed. Even as they left, Thranduil knew the garden's destruction wouldn't fix his problem. But it would be a welcome distraction. At least this way, he could hold out for a few more days before he decided to summon her. And they would talk. Whether she wanted to or not.

Four days later, Thranduil summoned her.

He must have adjusted his robe six times over while he reclined luxuriously in his throne chair, doing his best not to look as disheveled and uncomfortable as he was. He had decided to forgo wearing his crown. He didn't want to appear too stiff and formal. Not that Tauriel would care. Or would she? Footsteps. The air caught in his lungs, and his whole body tensed in anticipation. But it was only the guard.

"Well?!" King Thranduil roared, "Where is she?" He demanded, leaping to his feet.

"Your Highness, Tauriel is not here. We believe she was among the company who left to relieve the guards at our border a week past," the soldier replied speedily.

"Bring me the Captain of the Guard," Thranduil ordered next. So that's where she had been. Why had he not been notified? Castor would pay for that.

"Your Highness," Castor bowed lowly, a smile upon his face, "You summoned?"

"Indeed. It is my understanding you sent an enforcement of fresh troops to the borders this week past?"

"You are correct my Lord,"

"And am I also correct in noticing how you failed to submit your activity reports to me for permission _before_ sending the soldiers off?" Thranduil asked, keeping his voice and his expression entirely calm. His voice cold as ice. Captain Castor's eyes went as large as stars, and he took a full half minute before any sound projected from his slack jaw.

"Your majesty, I apologize profusely for this oversi-"

"Have you already forgotten, so soon after your promotion, that I am the one who has the final say when it comes to military activity?" Thranduil pressed.

"Your highness, I assure you, this was an accident! I was preoccupied with the responsibilities of seeing to the guards and escorts for our guests during their stay and did not realize-"

"Ah, now I understand. Feeling a bit overwhelmed by your duties were you?" Thranduil tilted his head, drumming his fingers on the wooden armrest of his throne chair.

"Of-c-course not, my Lord!"

"Then how could someone of your high reputation let this oversight take place?"

"My King, it will never happen again, I assure you! Please accept my humblest apology," Castor groveled, falling to his face, arms out, pleading. King Thranduil took a deep breath, gathering what was left of his patience.

"Get out of my sight Captain. And pray that I do not decide to demote you."

Castor got up and slunk out of the throne room. As satisfying of a sight it was to see, it still did not solve the source of Thranduil's frustration. Tauriel would not return to the palace for another six weeks, as was the standard border patrol rotation. Pity, he could not think of a single excuse to ride out there… Or could he? When was the last time he had inspected the border towers personally? Perhaps now was the perfect time to do so. No danger to the realm was impending, and there were no pressing matters needing Thranduil's immediate attention. Why not take the week and visit his faithful scouts? He was King after all. He could do what he saw fit.

…

It was a gorgeous morning. The sun was streaming through the treetops, leaving soft pink and yellow streaks that kissed the forest floor. Tauriel took a deep breath of the fresh, ripe herbal air and sweetly stroked a bright green leaf with dew on it. Not for the first time since she had arrived here, Tauriel appreciated how the world felt so new. She had needed to get out of the palace. Being out in this nature, the wood finally at peace after hundreds of years… It was remarkable. For as long as she could remember, a dark, sorrowful murk had hung about the tall trees like an eternal curse, whose cure was never known.. Now, the murk was nowhere to be found. Each plant seemed to beam joyfully at this new found freedom and a glorious light permeated the air. Even the nights were now beautiful, as Tauriel had discovered upon arriving her first night a week ago. The stars had seemed to be twinkling twice as bright. All she could do was marvel. During that week, Tauriel had spent most of her time alone. She was still an outcast, despite every attempt she had made to recover her troops' good opinion. But no matter how careful, how considerate, or how willing she was, the result was the same: cold indifference.

Legolas had truly been her only friend. She hadn't realized just how much she had depended upon him during her years as Captain until now. Nor had she noticed how in the years of shared intimacy with the Prince, she had simultaneously separated herself from the others of her vocation. With Legolas as her constant companion, she had not sought anyone else's friendship. Which was just as well, because it seemed evident that most of the soldiers under her command were extremely jealous of her and her relationship to the future king. Or maybe they felt uncomfortable getting close to her anyway, knowing she was best friends with the Prince, and anything she heard could be easily shared with him. But even with Legolas gone, nobody dared befriend her. Why? Because of Thranduil. Even after the Battle of the Five Armies, she had still been receiving special royal attention. And after her demotion no less! It took Tauriel a while to formulate these conclusions, a week in fact, but at last she understood. For what attention the crown did still see fit to give her, she must suffer for. Would it always be this way? Tauriel deeply hoped not. But at least here, in the calm, quiet wood, she was not judged. She spent hours sometimes, leaping from tree branch to tree branch, exploring the wilds and fully enjoying each of her discoveries, down to the smallest lady bug.

No danger was apparent. Even the giant spiders which had once ravaged the woods were nowhere to be found. Tauriel didn't feel like a scout anymore out here. She felt like she was on a much needed vacation. Complete with target practice! Tauriel drew her bow and notched an arrow with experienced form and her personal touch of exquisite style. She sank into the shot, finding that comfortable position, and let the arrow fly to find its mark. The fine edge of the arrow tore through several gently falling leaves before pinning them to the bark of a tree trunk. Tauriel smiled and lept down to the forest floor to retrieve her arrow. She'd purposefully aimed it somewhere she could get it back with minimal effort. As she yanked it out of the tree, the sound of an elkhorn broke the morning silence. It wasn't the sharp long, blare of an alarm, but the short, intricate puffs of a 'return to camp' signal. Confused, Tauriel resheathed her arrow and jogged back towards camp, unsure of what awaited her. She ran swiftly up into the trees, leaping from root to giant root before she came upon the almost hidden entrance to the tree fortress that served as the scout's lookout tower. Upon entering through the gates, she noticed a lot of new horses present within the stable. What was all this about? And that was when she also spotted a giant elk. It ate happily from it's trough, and Tauriel approached it slowly, eyes wide and furious. _HE_ could not be here. But who else would ride one of the royal elk? None other than the King himself. Not even Legolas had that honor. Just like that, the peace in her heart was snatched away, replaced with the fiery fury that she thought she had extinguished days ago. Tauriel wanted to scream.

"Tauriel!"

She spun to the one who called her name, and a fellow scout approached.

"The King has come for an impromptu inspection of the border patrol towers."

"Of course he has," Tauriel all but snarled.

"We are to stand and await inspection in the main court."

How could she maintain her composure? How would she refrain from yelling at him? Tauriel tried to focus on her breathing as she followed the other scout towards the court. The idea occurred to her that she didn't have to speak at all. She would remain silent. She would avoid being alone with him, and she would maintain an austere attitude. Any other response to his presence would be inappropriate. Especially before the rest of the camp.

The ranks had already filled, and the warriors waited at ease before their Lordship, as he addressed them. Tauriel swallowed.

"Do not be alarmed, faithful soldiers of the realm," King Thranduil spoke out, his voice crisp and clear in the morning air. "Though news of my coming was unknown to you, I am well pleased with my inspections. Your duties have been fitfully upheld, down to the smallest detail, and you deserve my highest praise." He paced leisurely through the center of the two soldier columns, his piercing gaze tracing over each elf individually. Tauriel hastily assumed a place amidst the row farthest back, hoping to not be noticed. However, her attempt at subtly failed. The King was too perceptive. Not for the first time, Tauriel cursed her head for being too red. She stood out like a sore thumb. And for the slightest moment, she and the king locked eyes. Quickly, Tauriel looked away, refusing to let him see into her soul. Thranduil continued his speech.

"Of the towers I have thus far visited, you alone have exceeded my expectations. This calls for congratulations! Let the huntsman do their best work, and bring to us some beasts worthy of a true celebration," he commanded, lifting a graceful arm to sweep over the company of elves. The warriors cheered happily and joyful chaos ensued. All save for Tauriel, who folded her arms and walked away. She would not linger and give Thranduil a chance to confront her one on one.

...

* * *

A/N:

 _Hello readers! Thank you for taking the time to check out my story, and thank you to those who are returning after I took such a long absense! I'm back now, for good, and have even started my own **INSTAGRAM** account to prove it! Check out my profile for more details, or go directly onto instagram and look for me : tamingtheriver ! I'll be the one with the unicorn ;P See ya there! _

_-2Tame a River_


	7. Chapter 7

Mountains Cold and Gray

* * *

Part Seven

...

The feast looked magnificent. Even Tauriel had to admit that. When she had returned to the tower, after having spent a majority of her morning doing everything to avoid Thranduil, she was genuinely pleased by the smell of the cooking deer, fresh bread, and the abundance of fruits and vegetables. A table had been brought out into the tower courtyard and decorated with pine branches and berries and flowers. A total of twenty scouts were present, and many were already seated. The king himself was not yet present, but a place at Thranduil's right hand side of the head of the table was left vacant. Tauriel moved to take a seat on the opposite end of the table.

"Tauriel," a soldier interrupted her, "Your place is at the head, beside his Lordship," he gestured. Tauriel frowned.

"My place?"

"He has requested it."

"Why?" She demanded.

"You think I'm stupid enough to ask the king questions when he gives me orders?" The soldier replied sternly.

Tauriel wanted to scream. Why must Thranduil be so persistent? Why could he not leave her alone? All she wanted was to be anywhere he wasn't. Was that too much to ask? The soldiers were now looking at her expectantly. Tauriel clenched her fists and strode over to the other end of the table. She sat, slowly. Moments later, a cheerful trumpet sounded and Thranduil emerged from the tower to join them at the table. All eyes were on him. Except for Tauriel's. Even as Thranduil sat, and she detected his movement in the corner of her eye, she did not dare give him the satisfaction of her eye contact. Several servants strode behind him, carrying musical instruments.

"Soldiers, I bid you a good evening," Thranduil addressed. He sat and extended his arms to the table. "Let the feast begin!" The servants began playing a beautiful ballad that wove peace and calm into the air. Yet the soldiers were hesitant to start eating. Tauriel felt bad for them. This was an awkward situation for them all. It was not often, if ever, that the soldiers were honored enough to eat in the presence of the King. Tauriel had only eaten in his presence once, and it had been a complete accident. He had come upon her once in the woods, right after she had sat down to snack on some bread after a long morning of slaying spiders. She had offered for him to have some, but he had refused, touching her cheek and telling her..

"You need to keep up your strength. Dark days are ahead of us."

How right he had been…

"Please, help yourselves," Thranduil's real voice persisted, bringing Tauriel out of her memory. When no one else seated at the table seemed likely to begin eating first, Tauriel obliged. Once the others saw her begin without fear, they followed her example. Thranduil's plate was already served, as his personal servants who traveled with him had prepared it in advance. Still, he did not eat. He waited until everyone else was finished serving themselves. Tauriel could feel his eyes watching her as she assembled her food, and it was a very uncomfortable feeling. When she was done helping herself, a servant came and poured her a glass of red wine. She dug into her meal, refusing to be self-conscious of her table manners while in the king's presence. He was the one who had wanted to sit by her. It was his own fault if he didn't like what he saw. But he said nothing.

Bite after bite, Tauriel prepared for Thranduil to offend her ears with his prying voice. Yet he said nothing. The rest of the soldiers talked quietly amidst themselves, so there was a steady murmur over the sweet lull of the music. And all the while, Tauriel did not lift her eyes from her plate.

What is he waiting for? Does he plan to keep me in suspense all night? Why would he insist that I sit near to him and then not bother speaking a word to me?

Tauriel decided that Thranduil was simply determined to make her life a waking nightmare. She had thought once they were friends. Now, she no longer believed such a thing. Carefully, while she sipped the wine in her glass, Tauriel sneaked a glance over at the King's plate. She watched his hands as they methodically cut through his deer meat with his knife and sunk the fork into a perfectly bite sized piece to lift it off the plate. Somewhere in the woods, an owl hooted. Dusk had come, and the air was chilling. The great light in the sky slowly dimmed, as if someone was putting out a lantern, and right on cue, Thranduil's servants stepped forward to light the candles about them on the table. The soldiers were nearly finished with their meal by this time, but it appeared more celebration was yet to be had. When the servants finished lighting candles and lanterns, the soft melodies of the flute and violin changed to something more lively. Thranduil stood suddenly.

"And now, a line dance," Thranduil announced. The soldiers all clapped and stood eagerly.

What? What is happening? A dance? For what intent and purpose is he…?

But Tauriel did not have time to finish her thought. Thranduil had just extended his hand down to her.

"Tauriel," he addressed. Hearing his voice again was like tasting the familiar wine that still lingered on her lips. Rich and nostalgic. Reflexively, without thought, Tauriel's eyes flitted up to meet his. The King's gaze was warm, entreating, and most compellingly sincere.

"Would you do me the honor?" He asked, a hopeful smile growing on the corner of his mouth. Tauriel swallowed. For whatever reason, something in his look was convincing her to give him another chance. She wasn't sure what it was. A spell? she wondered vaguely. Whatever it was, it was potent enough to disarm her of her anger. It wasn't fair…

"Alright," she agreed. She took his hand delicately, and rose to her feet. The King led her to the open space beside the table, and they fell into order with the rest of the lined up soldiers. The dance began.

…

The heavens boasted of all their glory that night. The moon shined gladly down upon the woods and the stars crowned the trees in brilliant halos. Thranduil inhaled the night air, catching his breath. He and his soldiers had danced the night away in a swirl of red faces, flinging hair, and synchronized footwork. Thranduil had lost count of just how many line dances they had performed, but by the time the feast came to an end, it was nearly one in the morning. The king did not care. Tauriel was beside him. Best of all, she was smiling and laughing. Seeing her glowing face amidst the other dancing scouts brought a joy to Thranduil's heart that he had not felt in perhaps a millennia. That long? Yes.

Upon his arrival, he had not been certain of how his ex-captain of the guard would behave when she saw him. He had guessed it would have involved some angry looks, maybe even light scolding. He received neither. Instead, though too shy to look upon him at first, Tauriel had maintained her usual countenance, not betraying any sign of bitter thought toward him. There was no doubt in Thranduil's mind that she had read his letter, and had been pleased with its contents. Even if she wasn't quite sure how to express such emotion to him properly. Encouraged by her calm attitude, a boldness had grown within Thranduil's breast. He had asked her to dance. To his satisfaction, she had accepted. How many smiles had she given him? How many times had she laughed whilst twirling so prettily within the group? Did she even realize how happy she felt?

Now, exhausted from the exercise, and very aware of the lateness of the hour, Thranduil dismissed the soldiers to bed. Tauriel would want to go with them naturally, and Thranduil did not ask her to linger. He imagined she was in need of much rest, and yet she hesitated to go. As the other soldiers faded away into the tower of trees, she remained, rooted to the spot.

"My Lord…" She began. Thranduil did not move a muscle. He stood, attentive. Listening. Waiting with baited breath.

"Thank you for tonight. It was… much needed."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," he responded quietly. Tauriel swallowed and looked away. An owl hooted, and the stars glittered. He could almost see them in the reflection of her eyes.

"I wasn't going to forgive you for your behavior that night," she announced, "I still might not."

Thranduil frowned.

"I understand."

"It's just that.. Sometimes you treat me as if… Treat me like…" she stuttered, clenching her fists and shaking her head. "I can't put it to words."

"Like I invite you into my confidence, and then I push you away," Thranduil offered. Her eyes went wide in surprise and she looked at him.

"Yes… You go to such extremes, first one way and then the other. I don't know what to expect from you. One moment you are making a speech that made my heart fly... And the next you are ignoring me, as if you've forgotten my existence. Yet when I distance myself from you, it displeases you greatly. I do not know what you want from me," she took a deep breath and looked down to fiddle with her hands. The light of the lanterns bathed her in a sort of golden glow, lighting the tips of her red hair afire. She was beautiful, so exposed and vulnerable. This strong warrior, who's heart refused to be caged. Thranduil regarded her closely, dearly. It had taken him a long few days of deep reflection, but he had finally been able to own up to the pain he had caused her. He saw his error, and he regretted it deeply.  
"May I ask... Did you read my letter?" he inquired. Tauriel's fidgeting hands stilled.

"I did not," she admitted. Thranduil thought not. The letter he had written to her that night before the whole altercation within the garden, and left upon her nightstand for her to read, had been one of tenderness and thanks. He had written and told her how appreciative he was for all of her help, and how he credited much of the New Eve Celebration's success to her. How working with her had been a pleasure, and he hoped she had considered it as pleasing of an experience as it had been to him. He had also made the suggestion that if she felt inclined, he would enjoy working with her again, whenever other matters of such significance occurred.

"Do you still have it?" Thranduil asked.  
"I threw it in the fire."

"Ah."

Thranduil actually smiled at her. She could be so rash when angered. Tauriel was too anxious to notice he was smiling at her, directing all her attention to her hands which she was now rubbing together to keep warm. Thranduil reached out and took them into his own.

"Tauriel, look at me," he insisted. The scout lifted her head slowly.

"I take full responsibility for them, and admit they were wrong. I am sorry."

Tauriel opened her lips, but no words proceeded from them. She was perhaps too stunned by his admission of guilt.

"I have a difficult time letting people get close to me," Thranduil began, tenderly warming her hands in his, "I have lived a long life, full of experiences I never sought nor imagined. And many of these experiences came with injuries… Some injuries I fear I will never heal from. You know this."

Tauriel nodded. Seldom did Thranduil ever reveal his scars, but he did so now. The spell upon his face receded back, and with it, came the return of the same pain and ugliness that always festered there, just below the surface. Tauriel stared at him, her face turning a shade whiter. Her lips parted.

"My Lord… do not hurt yourself on my account," she pleaded. Her concern for him was touching.

"The pain of these physical wounds is nothing in comparison to the ever present emotional trauma I have endured over these years," Thranduil continued stubbornly, "I thought the way to defeat this pain was to mask it. To close it off. Hide the wounds. Ignoring its existence would make it powerless over me. But… I've come to realize, this is not the way. You made me realize I cannot go on this way."

Tauriel blinked in confusion.

"I did my Lord?"

"Yes you, my rebellious captain. By the way, I plan on restoring your status to Captain of the Guard first thing when we return to the castle."

Tauriel jerked, as if she'd just received a blow to the head.

"How-? But- why? I thought-"

"Stuttering does not become you, dear Tauriel, it would be best if you ceased your pointless protests," the King grinned, deriving great enjoyment from how flustered she was.

"When did you decide this?" she demanded, finally mastering her tongue.

"It was decided before I set out on my tour of the borders. Caspar has been a poor substitute and decidedly less than worthy of the position."

"Less worthy than someone who intentionally ignored your orders and abandoned her loyalties?"

"Well… she's made up for it since then," Thranduil chuckled, drawing her closer. Tauriel's eyes shone with gratitude and affection. For a moment Thranduil considered something wild. He wanted to kiss her. Where this sudden urge came from, he had no idea. Which was why it disturbed him so deeply. Abruptly, he stepped back and let her hands go.

"You should go. Get your sleep. We will talk more in the morning," he said, almost in a commanding tone. Tauriel appeared confused at first, but she nodded.

"As you wish."  
Thranduil watched her retreat into the dark night, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

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 _A/N: So sorry for the day late post! My Tuesday turned into a very busy day! But I hope you enjoyed Part Seven! If you'd like to share your thoughts, drop me a review, or visit my Instagram page at tamingtheriver, and dm me!_

 _-2Tame a River_


	8. Chapter 8

Mountains Cold and Gray

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Part Eight

...

In the span of a night, everything was changed. Whatever damage Tauriel thought had been permanently dealt between herself and the King was fully mended with a dance and some sweet words spoken beneath moonlight. Her heart felt so warm when she awoke the following morning, she wondered if she was still in a dream. How could one day feel so empty, and the next so full? She marveled, looking out into the forest from her bunk window and wondered where Thranduil had slept the night. She wondered if he had slept well, or if he had been awake for hours also. Tauriel's joy upon being told she was restored to her position as Captain of the Guard was beyond what words could say. Her thoughts had kept her awake all night. What did this all mean? At first she had been shocked. Was he playing some cruel trick? No. He wasn't. His look and his tone were pure sincerity. And the way he had apologized… How he had taken her hand… Oh, what did this all mean? She desperately wished to know. Tauriel sat up in her bed, and set a hand over her breast, feeling her heart thump beneath her fingers. She was excited.

Excited to see her Lord's face again, and to be greeted by those clear blue eyes and a smile from those soft lips. How did she know they were soft? They looked soft of course, but when had she noticed? The image of Thranduil's close face with his tender expression glowing in the starlight played before her mind's eye. Oh. That's when. For a moment she had suspected… But no. She wouldn't allow herself to think that way. It was scandalous. And yet, why did the idea bring her such a thrill?

She pushed back the blankets and rose to sit on the end of her her bunk. Locating her brush on the shelf beside her, she began stroking it through her loose auburn locks. What would it be like to brush through Thranduil's silver tresses? Did they tangle like hers? Somehow she couldn't imagine it. A bird chirped by the window, startling her from her musings. Embarrassed by her own thoughts, Tauriel hastily finished dressing and alighted from her roo, descending the ladder down to the forest floor. Some of the guards were already awake, speaking with the two scouts who had just returned from their night shifts. They were conversing in hushed voices and weary faces.

"Any news?" Tauriel interrupted them. Already she was assuming her role as Captain. The scouts looked at her curiously.

"Spiders, retreating from the woods. We saw dozens as they started creeping out into the fields. The curse of Mirkwood seems to be abating, and driving off the monsters," one of the scouts explained.

"This is excellent news," Tauriel replied. "If you see anymore fleeing the woods, be sure to slaughter as many as you can."

"Why?" The scout questioned, "The King has given no such order. So long as they are leaving Mirkwood, why should we-"

"Because," Thranduil spoke, suddenly emerging from around the corner of the fort, adorned in his royal crest and long, red robes. The scouts stiffened, forming up immediately. Tauriel straightened as well, but Thranduil laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He offered her a smile.

"Because we do not want to risk those foul creatures spreading to other lands."

Tauriel's heart soared, her eyes drinking in his regal appearance. He had never looked so noble to her before.

"Tauriel speaks with my authority," he continued, "She has been reinstated as my Captain of the Guard, and as such will be returning with me today to the palace. Make certain this news is spread to all the towers," he commanded. The guards and scouts present all looked to Tauriel. She could feel their astonishment permeating the air, but with Thranduil's hand upon her shoulder, she didn't fear their opinions.

"Come with me Captain, if you please," Thranduil said, addressing her.

"Of course my King."

…

Tauriel rode upon a gray horse, directly beside Thranduil who sat astride his magnificent elk. The Captain couldn't help but believe the forest was the most beautiful it had ever looked.

"How does my Lord fair with his new mount?" Tauriel inquired. A small contingent of servants and soldiers followed behind them on the forest road.

"He proves young and impertinent," Thranduil replied, having to yank the reins just as the elk bent its head to bite some foliage on the side of the road. Tauriel laughed.

"But he is his sire's offspring," Thranduil added with a sigh.

"My heart ached for you when you lost him. I know your steed was the most faithful beast in all the lands," Tauriel soothed. Thranduil appeared to reminisce.

"Yes, he was." He looked over at her suddenly. "May I speak to you of my past wife?"

Tauriel tried to hide her absolute astoundment. Legolas had told her on multiple occasions of how Thranduil never mentioned his fallen queen. And how, Thranduil sought to bring her up, willingly? She was not about to miss this opportunity.

"Of course my King. I would love to hear about her," she answered softly.

"My queen gifted to me my very first pair of elk. For our one year anniversary," Thranduil began, "She and I would often ride together. Even after Legolas was born, we would take him with us on our afternoon trails."

"That's a wonderful memory," Tauriel said, once again realizing just how many centuries older Thranduil was than she. But her heart stubbornly clung to him. Not as a father… Something else.

"May I ask, what was your gift to the queen upon your first year anniversary?" She inquired. Thranduil took a deep breath and turned in his seat to look directly at her. For a moment, Tauriel feared she had overstepped her boundaries. But then Thranduil answered.

"A precious set of white gems. They were a prized heirloom of our people."

Tauriel blinked. It all made sense now.

"That's why…" she said, but quieted, not wanting to speak out of turn and risk upsetting him.

"Yes. That is why," Thranduil replied, clearly knowing what she would have spoken. The gems were the entire reason he had chosen to march upon the gates of Erebor. Knowing this fact alone opened a whole new door to understanding what really went on within Thranduil's carefully protected heart. Tauriel took a deep breath, her mind racing.

"The cost was great… Much greater than I imagined," Thranduil proceeded, "And yet the dragon was bound to be defeated one day. Once it was, I knew others would be drawn to the hoard. There was no chance I would allow anyone, man, orc or dwarf, to take possession over the gems of my beloved..."

"And now that you have them?" Tauriel inquired.

"I am satisfied," Thranduil answered softly. Tauriel nodded, and they traveled on in silence.

…

Upon their return to the palace, Thranduil spoke with Castor. Two days later, Castor quietly withdrew from the ranks and moved to Rivendell to marry his fiance. Thranduil was certain to share the news with Tauriel in person, to which they celebrated by sharing a glass of wine on his terrace.

"He hated me," Tauriel shared, sloshing the wine within her glass thoughtfully. Her lips were stained a delicious red. Thranduil chuckled. He was smiling a lot these days.

"You exaggerate," Thranduil smirked.

"I do not!" Tauriel argued, "he gave me with the worst scout shifts and took great joy in assigning me the most menial jobs."

"Well you did disobey your king," Thranduil reminded with a quirked brow, "Considering your original punishment was exile, I would say you got off easily." Tauriel pursed her lips and looked down sadly. Thranduil instantly regretted his words. He had not meant to make her feel bad. The king cleared his throat and quickly gestured down to the gardens below the terrace.

"I was considering having your official promotion ceremony in that garden. Do you approve?"

"Promotion ceremony? My Lord, that seems highly unnecessary," Tauriel replied. And then she appeared to realized the location he had pointed out was the same place where they had argued on the night of the New Age Feast. Thranduil smiled when she looked at him.

"Wait, did you remodel the garden?" She questioned.

"It was time for a change," Thranduil answered, taking her glass of wine gently from her hand and leading her off the terrace and back into his personal wing of the palace.

"And where are we going?" Tauriel asked, patiently playing along.

"I have a gift for you," he said.

"A gift?"

Thranduil nodded, seating her on his lounge before scurrying away to retrieve a wooden case. It was long, and Thranduil enjoyed the confusion in Tauriel's eyes as he brought it over and deposited it on her lap.

"My king…" She uttered, laying an uncertain hand over the box's lid.

"Open the box, Tauriel," Thranduil ordered. She shook her head and took a deep, resigned breath before slowly lifting the lid. Within the box was an elegant bow. She withdrew it from its case, her eyes glittering in delight as she admired the wood and the model. Thranduil had ordered it be built to her old bow's specifications.

"My Lord, I do not deser-"

Thranduil raised a hand to quiet her, his fingertips barely brushing her lips.

"I should never have broken your bow in the first place. Especially when I see now that your cause was just. Replacing your weapon was the least I could do." Tauriel's eyes began to water. Without hesitation, Thranduil's hand moved to cup her cheek, wiping away her tear stains.

"Tauriel, look at me. I know I do not deserve you… Your goodness, your purity, and your conviction to hold true to what is good in this world are traits I only wish I myself possessed. So you'll forgive me if I have been slow in my coming along. But I see now that you have offered me something no one else has, or ever will. And that is your complete honesty. No matter the circumstances, or the repercussions, you have not once shied away from being your true self with me. That is something I can say for no one else. Not even Legolas. The temptation to impress, to long to be accepted… It is too great for most to deny. Yet you do not hide, or seek to impress… You simply are you. You are the first who dared to challenge me, and did not fear my temper. In you I realized I had found an equal. Someone whom I could trust and respect. Your presence alone can excite me as much as it soothes me. And I… Well I… cannot get enough."

Tauriel's tears were falling freely now, so Thranduil knelt before her, moving aside the bow to place both hands on her face. She tried to turn her head from him but he would not let her.

"Don't hide from me now!" He berated teasingly.

"This is too much," she whispered, "I had not even dared to hope…"

"Nor I," Thranduil replied quietly, "And I do not intend to push you into any kind of understanding or arrangement. I merely wanted to make my own heart known to you. It's because of you that I have come to know it at all. I had locked it away, too cowardly to bare the thought of what I might feel should I set it free. You made me brave again Tauriel. You have my deepest thanks."

Tauriel placed her own hands over his, squeezing them affectionately and lowering them to her lips so she could kiss his palms. Thranduil closed his eyes, soaking in the sensation and letting it reach clean through to his soul. Little did he understand just how much his words had done to touch Tauriel's own broken soul. But in the days that followed after that one precious moment…

he would come to know.

The End

...

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 _A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read! It's been a wonderful journey and I so appreciate your support and your reviews!_

 _-2Tame a River_


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